The Hetalian Monster
by Gothic Dancer
Summary: A series of oneshots for Lady GaGa's "The Fame Monster." NEW DELUXE EDITION. Now includes the original album THE FAME. LEAKED: JUDAS ANNOUNCEMENT
1. Track 1: Bad Romance

**Author's Note: **Hello, All. It's been a while since I've really written anything other than "Princess Records" over at DeviantART, and I'm totally overwhelmed with schoolwork right now. However, I feel like I need to get back into some sort of groove for fanfiction writing once I get some time, so I decided to fulfill a challenge I heard of once a while back: Write one-shots for every song on a CD where you actually like every single song on the CD. That's not easy considering people's taste, but I've fallen in love with Lady GaGa's "The Fame Monster," so I'll be writing nine prompts. "Bad Romance" will be split into two parts, one for the original and one for the remix. They'll both be taking place in the Gakuen Hetalia AU. The others will be taking place in the canon story except otherwise noted. The "Bad Romance" fics will also be the only ones that mention Lady GaGa as a person; the others will just be inspired by her. You'll see what I mean as I write.

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Bad Romance (Part 1)**

**Monster: Obsession**

It wasn't that Gilbert Beilschmidt didn't like him. Really. It wasn't. It was just that the blonde was too damn annoying.

Feliks Łukasiewicz was blasting his iPod once again, and Gilbert could recognize it as the same song even though he couldn't make out all the words. Something about love and revenge? Whatever. Gilbert didn't believe in such a silly thing like love. The revenge thing was okay, but love was definitely not awesome.

It also didn't help that Feliks was prancing around the classroom, making odd movements the blonde considered dancing. Sure, it was a study hall hour, meaning no teacher there to scold them, but this was too much.

"Oi, Valley Girl!" Gilbert shouted, slamming his literature textbook down. "Chill, would ya?! Your stupidity is killing me over here!"

Feliks paused in his dancing and plucked one of the buds from his ears. He frowned. "Like, what's with you, Gil?" he asked, flipping his hair back. "There's, like, no one here. I totally don't see what your problem is. It's not like you even study during this time anyway. Like, not at all for that matter."

A few of the other students murmured their agreements while Feliks's friends tried to get him to calm down. "Let's just not bother Gilbert, okay?" Toris, Feliks's best friend, suggested. "Come on, I don't want to make him angry." He smiled sheepishly in Gilbert's direction and brought Feliks back down to his seat next to him. "Besides, aren't you sick of that CD yet? It's all you've been listening to lately."

Feliks's eyes seemed to pop. "Like, no way!" he squealed. "No one can match Lady GaGa. I swear, the woman's a genius, like, total perfection. I'm one of her Little Monsters for life!" He giggled obnoxiously and hugged his iPod, which was still blasting the music.

"Little Monsters?" Gilbert repeated, not really interested. "Not awesome. I bet all her work's crap; I bet it's brainwashing you into following her."

There were few times when Feliks got angry. In general, he was a rather carefree person, evident in the girls' uniforms he often wore to school. He didn't let too much get to him, as long as he could find an opportunity to shop his troubles away. He also hardly ever cared if someone insulted him, because he knew he was just too fabulous for that person to ignore. That was the way he worked, the way he lived his life, and, as a result, he considered himself a very reasonable person.

Gilbert had crossed the line.

Feliks, without a word, reached into his pink, covered-in-pony-keychains backpack, and pulled out a CD. He calmly walked over to Gilbert and shoved the CD into his face. "Listen to it," he commanded. "This is her second CD. It's technically, like, a follow-up to her first, but you can totally understand it even if you haven't listened to the first one." He nodded when Gilbert took the CD from him. "Listen to it tonight and tell me if you think it's crap tomorrow."

With that, the bell rang, and the study hall hour was over. Feliks walked back to his seat without another word and turned off his iPod, waiting for the teacher to arrive for the class's next lesson.

* * *

When school finally got out at the end of the day, Gilbert was rather slow in leaving. Normally, he raced out of the building as fast as he could, desperate to meet up with his friends and mooch off his brother for spending money. Today, however, he walked out of the school at a normal pace, not reacting when his friends called for him.

_"Amigo, amigo!"_ came the voice of Gilbert's Spanish friend Antonio. "Over here, _amigo, _come on!"

Gilbert finally looked up and saw Antonio's constantly-cheerful face. The huge, goofy smile nearly made Gilbert sick. He didn't need to be surrounded by happiness right now.

"I'm not going to the arcade today," he said he passed his friends. "I'm going home."

_"Ah, oui?"_ came the voice of the last man in the trio, a French exchange student by the name of Francis. _"Pourquoi?"_

Gilbert mustered up all his patience and growled out a reply. "I have to go home and listen to a CD."

Antonio and Francis blinked. Once. Twice.

"A CD?" Antonio asked. "What CD?"

"It's nothing!" Gilbert flushed bright red. "It's...something stupid that idiotic aristocrat kid wants me to hear! Yeah, Roddy's just trying to push his crappy music on me again."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Gilbert, that's a lie. Roderich gave up on you during our first year here. He's barely spoken to you since. And every time he has tried to get you to listen to some of his music, you've never agreed to it. What CD is it really?" He crossed his arms and narrowed his clear, blue eyes.

Gilbert let out a frustrated groan and pulled the CD from his bag. Reluctantly, he handed it to his friends, sure they would laugh.

Surprisingly, Gilbert heard no mockery. "I've been wanting to hear this for a while," Antonio admitted, smiling a bit.

Gilbert's head shot up, his red eyes wide with confusion. "What the hell?" he asked, stupefied. "Ant, no, don't tell me that you're one of those...those..."

"Little Monsters?" Antonio finished, laughing a bit. "I don't think I would say that, _Amigo,_ but I did like her first CD."

Francis nodded in agreement. "I liked most of those first songs, too. Who did you get this from, Gilbert?"

The silver-haired boy blushed a bit. "I...I sort of...got into a little fight with Feliks. He's...making me listen to this stupid thing." He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "This is NOT awesome. I'm way too cool to be listening to such crap."

Francis smiled amusedly. _"Mais, mon ami,_ how do you know it's crap if you've never listened to it before?"

"Just look at it!" Gilbert pointed to the CD cover, which showed Lady GaGa herself dressed in black, covering her mouth. "She looks like a freak! Freaks make crappy music!"

Antonio smiled again. "How about we just listen to the first song?" he suggested. "If you hate it, you don't have to listen to any others. Francis and I will keep the CD overnight and then give it back to you in the morning so you can give it back to Feliks. Is that okay?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. He had to admit that the thought of only having to listen only to one of the torture devices was better than having to listen to all of them. Sighing, he nodded. "Let's go to my place. I'll get West to make us some snacks."

* * *

Gilbert's little brother Ludwig, the boy he called "West" was already home by the time the albino and his friends walked through the front door. "Oi, West!" he called. "The awesome me has come back home. His awesome friends are here, too. Make us some snacks." He tossed his bag to the ground, CD in hand, and headed for the stairs up to his room.

Ludwig looked up from the homework he was doing at the table in the living room that connected to the doorway. Sighing, he managed a greeting for his brother's friends. "What do you want to eat?"

Francis nudged Gilbert, preventing him from running up the stairs, while Antonio just smiled. "No need to worry about us, _amigo,_" he insisted. "We can get ourselves some snacks."

Ludwig nodded, his perfect, slicked back, blonde hair never once falling out of place. "Help yourself to anything as long as you clean it up later." Without another word, he went back to his work, completely ignoring his older brother's whining.

Francis turned to Gilbert. "Antonio and I will get the snacks," he insisted. "You go upstairs and put the CD in. Don't turn it on without us!"

The Spaniard turned to his blonde friend. "Francis, while the three of us are together, we should start thinking up a routine for the school's talent show. This is our last year of high school, so it has to be good." He grinned and ran into the kitchen to find a bag of popcorn.

Francis followed and opened the fridge to find a few sodas. "_Oui_, I suppose we should," he sighed, placing the three cans on the kitchen counter while Antonio placed the bag into the microwave. "The thing is that none of us can ever agree on what we want to do. And we need a name for our group."

* * *

Up in his room, Gilbert sat on the bed and opened the CD. He pulled the booklet out and flipped through it, taking in the photos. He had to admit that they were beautiful, everything about them. He liked the rough, edgy clothes and the black and white nude shots. Nodding and smirking slightly, he mentally confirmed that the booklet was awesome. Now he just needed to be convinced with the music.

"We've got popcorn and soda!" Antonio cheered as he entered the room. "Put the CD in, _amigo_, this is exciting!" He sat on the cold, wood floor and snapped the can open, eager to hear the first song. Francis sat down next to him and opened his soda much less excitedly, though he was internally bouncing with excitement.

Sighing, Gilbert stood and put the CD into the small boom box in the corner of his room. He was surprised it still worked after all these years, especially because the era of iTunes and digital music had begun. Regardless, the old device took the CD smoothly and started playing it.

For a good near five minutes, no one said anything. Antonio and Francis occasionally drank from their sodas and took a few handfuls of popcorn. Gilbert stared at the CD booklet and read over the lyrics as a female voice sang them. His blood red eyes were nearly blood shot; he didn't dare tear them away from the page for fear he might miss something.

When the song finally ended, Francis stood and pressed the pause button on the boom box. "_Fantastique_," he commented, smiling. "I can't wait to hear the rest." He turned to Gilbert, who was still staring at the lyrics. "What do you think, _ami_? You survived it." He and Antonio chuckled a bit.

Without a word, Gilbert stood and threw the booklet on his bed. He walked over to the whiteboard hanging on the other side of the room and erased everything he had written there, everything from appointments to after-school schedules to times he had to be especially awesome. When it was clear, he uncapped one of his markers and started writing out what looked like a formula.

When he was done, Antonio and Francis smiled triumphantly. Yes.

Gilbert's grin split his face.

2(RAH)3(AH) + [ROMA(1+MA)] + 2(GA)(OH)2(LA) = BAD TOUCH TRIO

TO BE CONTINUED (in Chapter 9)


	2. Track 2: Alejandro

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Alejandro**

**Monster: Men**

"I know that we are young, and I know that you may love me, but I just can't be with you like this anymore...Antonio."

"Lovi..."

Romano threw the front door open and ran out into Madrid's night, panting heavily and sweating profusely. He didn't bother to close the door; he _wanted_ Spain to see him run.

As he ran out into the streets, Romano couldn't help but remember his early days with the passionate, cheerful country. Things had been so innocent in the beginning. He was just little South Italy, taken away when he and his brother had been separated. He remembered watching Austria take North Italy away, the little boy dressed in white and sobbing as if someone had just taken away his pasta. Romano had then felt Spain take his tiny hand gently and lead him away slowly, as if to say he was sorry.

When the two finally arrived at Spain's mansion, Romano's face had been red with held back emotions. That was the first time Spain made the remark that "Little Lovi looks like an adorably round tomato!"

It had also been the first time he had been headbutted.

The early days had been frustrating. Spain, much like Austria, had demanded that Romano get to work as soon as possible, even forcing the little boy into a maid's dress. The response from Romano was far from what Spain had hoped for. No, unlike his little brother, Romano was a defiant, rude, sarcastic, little boy who was much less agreeable than his little brother.

And even when Romano obeyed Spain's orders and attempted to do the housework he was assigned, he would always end up failing miserably, making things worse than they had been. Dishes, vases, and sculptures were broken. Curtains, bed sheets, and clothes were torn. Walls, floors, and ceilings were stained. Spain's once-glorious mansion was a mess.

But none of that even upset the Spaniard. "You can do it, Lovi!" he would encourage. "Just try again."

Romano's face turned bright red every time Spain said those kind words. "STUPID!!" he cried. "I can't do anything right! You probably want to trade me for my little brother. He's WAY better at cooking and cleaning and taking orders than I am!"

Spain pondered this. It was very true that little Veneciano was better at all those things. He was also kinder, more obedient, and much more polite. There was no contest. It was no wonder that Austria was so eager to snatch the little Italian up.

But whenever Spain looked down at little Romano, he thought his heart would burst from the love he had for the little troublemaker. True, Romano was clumsy and foul-mouthed, but Spain found the small boy's attempts at covering up his emotions absolutely adorable. He loved the red, round cheeks that puffed out whenever he was angry, really making him look more and more like a tomato every time. He also loved those amber eyes that swam with unshed tears, making them brighten and shine. The boy's dark brown hair was shiny and soft, perfect for Spain to run his long, tanned fingers through. And he was just so small and cuddly that Spain couldn't help but want to pick him up and snuggle him.

"Lovi," Spain began, smiling, "I would never trade you for your brother." He bent down to the little boy's level and pat his head, comforting him. "I like you because you're you. You don't have to be anything like your brother for me to want you here." He attempted to pick Romano up, but the Italian wouldn't allow it, swatting his hands away.

"STUPID!!" he repeated, stomping his feet as he walked away. "I NEED A TOMATO, DAMMIT!!"

Things didn't change much as the years went by. Romano kept messing up, and Spain kept loving him.

And spoiling him.

"Would you like another churro, Lovi?" he asked as the two sat outside on a particularly hot night. Spain held the plate full of the pastries and offered one to his little maid.

His sixth one.

"Stupid jerk," Romano huffed, snatching the churro away. "More tomatoes, too."

"Of course, Lovi!" Spain cheered, standing. "I'll be right back. Stay here! I'll go get you a whole basket of tomatoes!"

"Only the biggest, juiciest, prettiest ones!" Romano shouted as he shoved the churro in his mouth. "Stupid!" He chomped down on the churro, much against his better judgement, and swallowed the sweet treat, sighing contently as he looked up at the clear night sky. "That jackass Spain does whatever I tell him," he said to himself. "What an idiot. Doesn't he know someone could take advantage of that?

Realization hit him like a ton of tomatoes.

And so it went.

"I don't want that outfit, jackass! I want this one!"

"That tomato is ugly. You're so stupid!"

"No, I am NOT doing my chores today, idiot Spain. Make me a pizza."

And, every single time, Spain replied the same way.

"Anything for you, Lovi!"

Romano had Spain wrapped around his little finger.

And he _loved _it.

Whenever someone would even come within a few meters of Romano, the little Italian would cry out for Spain to come protect him. And, every single time, the passionate Spain would snatch little Romano up and cuddle with him as he brought the child away from the "danger." It was no secret that Romano was terrified of France, but the blonde hardly ever did anything to him, being more interested in Veneciano. Turkey had once tried to kidnap Romano, and after Spain had rescued the boy, he had chalked it up to the fact that Turkey was the Ottoman Empire and was _constantly_ looking for new territories to invade, conquer, and control. Spain often felt terrible for little Greece.

One day, after, once again, saving Romano from what he deemed as danger, Spain had to ask. "Lovi, why is it you always need me to save you? I mean, I always will, but is there a reason you constantly end up in so much trouble?"

Romano put on his best innocent face. "But," he murmured as the tears spilled down his red, puffy cheeks, "everyone wants to take me away from you, Spain. I'm just a little baby. Don't you _love _me?"

Spain couldn't resist that face. "Oh, of course I do, Lovi!" he said, snuggling the boy closer to his chest. "I'll do anything for you. _Anything!_ I'll be just like a papa to you!"

Success.

And that was how it went for so many years.

Until something strange happened.

"Lovino~!"

"DON'T!!"

Romano couldn't believe the word that had just exploded from his mouth. No, he had NOT just said that. He turned to Spain with large eyes, staring the older man down. Spain looked the same he always had. The dark brown, somewhat curly hair. The tanned skinned. The green eyes. The sweet, cheerful smile. He had not changed over the years.

It was Romano.

"Don't call out for me," the Italian ordered, shaking a little. He had grown up, and Italy was now an independent, whole nation. Romano had gone back to Veneciano, and the two, though still separated into the northern and southern pieces, were Italy. Why couldn't Spain understand this?

"I don't want you to follow me either," he continued as his breathing became a bit labored. "I don't belong to you anymore. I'm not your little maid."

"But, Lovi..."

"HUSH!!" Romano shouted, effectively shutting both of them up. "Don't..."

And, just as he always had, Spain obeyed the Italian. "I understand, Lovi." He smiled. "I want you to understand though that you can always come back to me."

Romano's cheeks turned red. "No, I can't! Stupid Spain!" he cried. "Don't you have any damn idea of what I've been doing to you this whole time?! I've just been using you like a stupid bastard! You do anything I say. You get me anything I want. You never noticed that I was just using you?!"

The two were silent in Spain's mansion for a very long moment. Spain watched Romano pant heavily, and the tears in his eyes threatened to fall. He smiled. The Italian cared about him. He knew it. Romano was just emotionally challenged.

The next words out of Spain's mouth made Romano charge out of the mansion, out to the streets of Madrid.

"I've always known, Lovi."

And the Italian ran.

But he was back the next day, demanding tomatoes.

And, as usual, Spain had a big basket full of them when he arrived.

_Don't call my name, don't call my name, Alejandro._

_I'm not your babe, I'm not your babe, Fernando._

_Don't wanna kiss. Don't wanna touch._

_Just smoke my cigarette and hush._

_Don't call my name, don't call my name, Roberto._

_Alejandro. Alejandro. Ale-Alejandro. Ale-Alehand-e-ro._

END


	3. Track 3: Monster

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Monster**

**Monster: Relationships**

Saying that Lithuania had bad luck with relationships was like saying that Italy liked pasta. It was an obvious statement that did not need to be said.

Things had been rough from the beginning. Being a Pagan, he had been targeted by Christian crusaders after Mindaugas, his beloved king, had been assassinated during the 13th century. Sure, things got a little bit better in the 14th century, as he had been the largest country in Europe at the time. He had owned not only all of his present-day territory but also parts of present Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, and Russia. Then, in 1385, he and Poland had joined as allies through their bosses.

That was the first relationship.

And the first disaster.

The aristocracy did not approve of the blonde. "Look how flamboyant he is!" Lithuania could remember one noblewoman say. "And he's so childish. Don't be surprised if all we have running around here one day are ponies!"

The rest of the upper class agreed with this noblewoman, and Lithuania found himself at a loss for what to do. Poland was his good friend; he couldn't just leave him! Poland was like a bright, shiny light that helped Lithuania see through the darkest of times. He had been there even before the two countries had joined together.

"This will be, like, totally awesome!" Poland had cheered on the day they had become one. "We're gonna be best friends for life, Liet, totally!"

He couldn't do it.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"That bastard Russia!" Lithuania's boss at the time shouted. "He thinks he can take over our territories! Well, we'll show him. We'll strengthen our bond with Poland."

Lithuania stared wide-eyed at his boss. This was great! Russia's attempts at invading his country had been a blessing in disguise, and this gave him the perfect excuse to stay with Poland. Nodding seriously but doing a victory dance on the inside, Lithuania agreed to his boss's orders and went to find his best friend. He had to tell him the good news!

And so, in 1569, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was formed. "This is totally cool," Poland squealed. "We're gonna be awesome like this, Liet, totally!"

Lithuania just smiled. He stood there, next to his boss, holding Poland's hand as the documents were signed. _Yes,_ he kept thinking, _this will keep both of us safe from Russia. In fact, no one will question us! We're one country under each other's protection._

And then, out of nowhere, a thought struck the brunette. It crashed down to his head like a bolt of lightning and shook his brain, making a shiver go down his spine. "HOLD IT!!" he shouted as soon as he came to. He slammed his hands down on the table before him and stared at his boss. "I mean...I have something to say." He panted quietly and blushed, realizing what he had done. After clearing his throat, he said, very calmly, "I would appreciate it if Poland and I could be...together but separate." He gulped, realizing that his statement had made no sense. As if the confused look from Poland wasn't enough of a sign.

"Um, Liet?" he asked, standing awkwardly still. "Like...what the hell are you talking about?"

"I just want to have my own institutions!" Lithuania defended. "You know, my own currency, army, culture...Poland, I want your protection, and I want us to be unified friends, but..."

Suddenly, Poland smiled gently. "It's okay, Liet, I totally know what you mean."

Lithuania slowly straightened himself and stood normally, somewhat in shock. "You...do?"

The blonde nodded. "It's only natural. You've been such a strong country for such a long time that the thought of totally merging with me has you scared. I get it." Turning to his own boss, Poland grinned. "Let's do it. Let Liet have what he wants. Like, I don't mind."

Lithuania could feel his heart swell with joy. Poland really was the best friend he could possibly have. He smiled so happily and took his friend's hands.

_"Ačiū."_

_"Proszę bardzo."_

And, with everything in order, they left.

When Poland got home, he went to his room and slammed the door behind him. "That was a bitch move, Liet," he hissed. "You think you can have my loyalty and protection without anything else? Yeah, right. Bitch, you're going down."

It came so quickly Lithuania didn't even know what had hit him.

Polonization.

Before he knew it, everything about him was different. Politics. Language. Food. Music. Art. Culture. National identity. Everything. Lithuania didn't feel like Lithuania anymore. Everything he had once been was gone. Polish royalty was being elected into his government. He was speaking like a Pollack. His food tasted different. Italy's influence had added to Poland's during the Renaissance, and, even though art flourished in his country, it wasn't the same. His people...Did they even notice? They just kept going on with their daily lives, accepting all these influences that were coming seemingly out of nowhere. This wasn't Lithuania! This was the country formerly known Lithuania that had undergone major surgery. What the hell?

Finally, Lithuania couldn't take it anymore. He ran to Poland.

"This isn't working!" he cried. "I want to be my own independent nation, and you're not helping! Take your stupid influences and LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!"

Poland didn't take it well.

"You were a little bitch to me first, Liet," the blonde hissed. "Expecting everything from me but not accepting any of me. You totally suck at this relationship thing, Liet." He turned and gathered his things, preparing to separate. "Like, may all your relationships be cursed to end in disaster from now on."

And he left.

But nothing was getting better.

By the middle of the 17th century, Lithuania felt as though he truly had been cursed. Sweden had come into his country and, without sparing a single soul, ravaged the land, taking whatever he could. Towards the end of the battles, Lithuania could do nothing but cry, as he knew his plight would not end when the Scandinavian country grew tired of him.

"W'n't be th'nly 'ne," Sweden murmured as he walked off with his army, satisfied with his victory. "M're 're c'ming."

And he was right. Throughout all of the 18th century, Lithuania was partitioned. First came the bastard who had caused all this trouble in the first place.

"Lithuania is so cute, da?" Russia asked as he knelt down to trembling, sobbing brunette. "One day, you'll become a part of me, be sure of it. Other countries want you right now, and I know I won't have you for too long." A sweet, innocent smile. "But...mark my words...you'll be _mine._"

Lithuania couldn't even process all this in his war-torn mind. He didn't have Poland's protection anymore, so there was no one to save him from the huge, deranged country before him. Sweden had screwed him over and taken everything he had leftover from his early days. Now Russia was there, kneeling in front of him, an innocent look on his face and a menacing aura surrounding him.

That was it.

"I WON'T BELONG TO YOU!!" Lithuania screamed as Russia got up and prepared for his journey home. "I AM MY OWN COUNTRY. I AM LITHUANIA." His voice cracked and he collapsed into the icy mud on the ground. "I'll rise again...one day...all by myself."

With those words, Russia merely glanced back at the weak nation, his eyes scanning the vast lands before him. The snow, the icy, and the death reminded him so much of home, and it comforted him.

"Kolkolkol."

And most of the country's land went to the psychopath with little to no effort.

Much to Lithuania's horror, Russia had been right about something else, too. Not twenty years later came two new invaders. Lithuania stared in horror at the one glaring in his face, red eyes burning with a fiery passion that the brunette couldn't describe. Behind him was a tall, intimidating force of nobility. He suddenly understood why Italy had been so terrified of these two.

The one before him grinned wildly, as if about to feast on a fantastic dinner.

"Poland wasn't enough for me, Kid. Your vital regions belong to the awesome Prussia."

And the other one just smiled.

"I'll be taking him from you one of these days. Just wait."

"We'll see, Austria, we'll see."

What happened next happened so quickly that Lithuania barely had time to grieve. Several famines struck his poor, ravaged country, and so many people, too many people, died. A mere fraction managed to live through them, one after another, and those people had their sights set on a new place.

"It's called America," a peasant once said to Lithuania. "It's a land of hope, dreams, and opportunity. We'll go there and say goodbye to this horrible life! To this horrible land!" The old man's eyes gleamed with excitement and pride, and they stared back into the country's dead, lifeless ones.

Lithuania could only watch as the ship filled with his people. No, they weren't his people anymore. They wanted nothing to do with this starving, dying country. It was the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th when it happened, and Lithuania got word from countries all over Europe and Asia that their people were leaving their countries, too. "America must be just that awesome to make people want to abandon their homes," Lithuania sobbed one night after a particularly large ship full of people had set sail. "Maybe I should just give up, too."

But his pride wouldn't let him.

"No," he growled into his mattress that night, "I will _not_ give up. I don't care how awesome this America guy is or bad my fights with Poland are or how dominating Russia is on my lands." He sat up in bed, left his room, and ran to his boss. "I am LITHUANIA, dammit!" he shouted when he reached his boss's bedroom door. "I was once the largest, most powerful country in Europe. I REFUSE TO BACK DOWN." He pounded on the bedroom door, his fist clenched so tightly that blood ran down his arm. "Boss, I need to speak with you! It's urgent!" he shouted as he woke up what was left of the entire mansion.

"WE'RE DECLARING INDEPENDENCE."

On February 16, 1918, Lithuania did just that. World War I was constantly raging just outside his window, but he didn't notice. Germany was occupying most of his territory, and Poland kept arguing with him over the remaining land, but he didn't care. He was a free, independent nation that couldn't be stopped.

"I'll rise again," he kept telling himself every night as tried to sleep. "I'll do it. Nothing is going to get in my way."

But the biggest threat Lithuania faced with this declaration was not Poland or Germany or America or his own people. No, it came from his next door neighbor.

The one _opposite_ Western Europe.

Lithuania had no idea where he had come from or how he had made it to him. In fact, it seemed to happen without any warning. He and his other Baltic friends Estonia and Latvia had all decided to be neutral during World War II, deciding it was best to follow Switzerland's example. But that didn't stop him from coming and claiming their territories in the name of the Soviet Union. It was 1940 when Russia established this.

Lithuania could remember the day it had finally happened. He, Estonia, and Latvia stood before Russia, shaking and crying and silently praying. What for? They didn't even know. Anything but this. Lithuania almost wished he could go back to the time of the famines; at least he could suffer independently.

He lifted his pale, sweaty face and stared up at Russia, the large nation's eyes glowing bright violet and his mouth making terrifying, breathy noises. Lithuania nearly jumped out of his skin when he properly heard the syllables make their way to his ears. He could never forget it. Russia had made the same noises when he had partitioned him during the 1770s.

"Kol...kol...kol..."

Lithuania tried to look ahead towards the door. It was bright beyond this small, cramped room, meaning the door was open. But there was no escape. Even if he could, by some miracle, escape Russia, the man's sisters were at the door. Ukraine was looking surprisingly serious, as if she was prepared to do anything for her darling little brother. And then there was Belarus, enjoying every moment of watching the Baltic Trio squirm. She held a knife up to mouth and licked the unsharpened side of the blade, smiling devilishly.

Suddenly, Russia spoke. "Thank you, Sisters," he said calmly. "I've got it from here."

The door closed. The only light came out from the slight sliver underneath the door where it didn't meet the floor. With that tiny light, Lithuania could see a gleam near Russia. Whatever it was, it looked metallic.

And that was when it hit him.

Literally.

"New toys!" Russia squealed with delight among Estonia's screams and Latvia's sobbing, the metal pipe smacking up against Lithuania's head. "This is going to be so much _fun!_"

In 1941, the Nazis invaded Russia. The wintery nation cursed Germany and Prussia with everything he had, but the German Brothers snatched Lithuania up.

It wasn't like the brunette cared though. Years of torture and the icy coldness of Russia's winter had made him numb to everything. He would watch his people fight against Russia, Germany, and Prussia, but nothing ever happened. His Jewish population became nearly non-existent, and none of the other Allies even bothered to do anything. Why should they have anyway? America hated Russia for his communist ideas, Russia had never gotten along with England or France, and China was facing his own dramatic troubles.

Hope did not exist.

One night, during the late 1980s when World War II was over and the Soviet Union was weakening, Lithuania received a phone call. He lay awake in his small, uncomfortable bed and heard a knock at his door.

"Lithuania, da?" came Russia's voice. "The operator says he has to connect you."

Slowly, Lithuania got out of bed and walked to the door. He opened it slowly and took the phone. "Thank you," he murmured, not meeting Russia's violet eyes. They had become dull over the years, and Lithuania sensed that his days as a communist country were coming to an end. Russia just nodded and walked off to his own bed, ignoring the shouts from Belarus about why he would possibly visit Lithuania in the middle of the night.

Quietly, the brunette brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Liet?"

Lithuania's eyes snapped open. "POLAND?!" he cried.

"Yeah, it's totally me," the blonde murmured. "Listen, I don't have too much time, so I'll make this really quick." A short breath. "I'm totally sorry, Liet. This is all my fault."

Lithuania could barely believe his ears. "What?" he gasped. "Poland, why are you...?"

"If I had known my curse would be this bad, I, like, totally never would have said anything.

Beep...beep...beep...He had hung up.

Lithuania fell to the floor in a slump. Now he really couldn't sleep. He whispered miscellaneous words to himself, not caring if anyone heard.

Poland.

"Don't call me 'Liet'."

Sweden.

"I've never seen one like that before."

Germany and Prussia.

"Don't look at me like that."

America.

"You amaze me."

Russia.

"You little monster."

Lithuania declared independence for real in 1990, right after the Soviet Union had collapsed. Iceland was the first country to recognize him. When the two met face-to-face for the first time, Iceland was still rather small, but he was an independent nation nonetheless.

"Norway told me that, in order for countries to truly be independent, they need another country to recognize them as such," the boy explained, smiling. "I may be small and young, but I'll do it. Lithuania, to me, you are an independent nation."

Lithuania couldn't do anything but sob in the boy's arms. How he had longed to hear those words for centuries...

"Just to warn you," the Baltic sniffed, "I have the worst luck when it comes to relationships."

_I wanna just dance, but he took me home instead._

_Uh-oh! There was a monster in my bed._

_We French kissed on a subway train._

_He tore my clothes right off._

_He ate my heart, and then he ate my brain._

END

Author's Note: Thank God for Wikipedia. I apologize if any of the history is not totally accurate. And the foreign text is "thank you" in Lithuanian and "you're welcome" in Polish.

Edit: Thank you, Doesn't-Have-An-Account Person, for pointing out the major inaccuracies. I tried to fix them the best I could.


	4. Track 4: Speechless

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Speechless**

**Monster: Death**

Germany didn't know what to say.

But who WOULD in this kind of situation?

Behind him stood America, who had his hands cuffed behind his back and was hanging onto them just to make sure the blonde wouldn't make a run for it. Behind America stood France and China, each with guns in their hands. Italy and Romano knelt with their backs to France, their hands tied up as well. Japan knelt in front of China, the same. Even through the pounding storm, Germany could hear their quiet sniffs and sobs.

Before him stood England. The British man stared at the muddy ground, his eyes dull and lifeless. Further away stood Russia, smiling gleefully despite the horrid weather.

And, between Germany and Russia, stood Prussia, body broken and bandaged, face bitter and angry.

The day was February 25th, 1947.

"I hereby bring Law #46 into being," England suddenly announced, his head rising so his eyes stared out at the dead, rotting land. "Prussia, from here on out, is formally dissolved."

"NO!!"

Germany panted heavily as he stared at his brother, who hadn't even so much as flinched at England's words. He didn't bother to look anywhere else; he knew that everyone, Axis and Allies alike, was staring at him, wondering how he could object in this situation.

"I wouldn't argue if I were you," England continued, expression not changing. "You're in no position. You knew this was a goal of ours from the start."

"Why my brother?" Germany gasped, head falling to the ground. "Why...?"

Prussia didn't say anything.

England ignored Germany's question and continued. "So now, ex-Prussia, you have two options. Your former territory was east of Germany and in the eastern regions of your younger brother's country. You can either join with him and fight us until you die..." A pause and a gasp. "...Or you can divide yourselves up and live separately."

Russia giggled.

Germany could barely hear what England was saying anymore. Prussia was no longer Prussia. Prussia was no longer that large, powerful nation that had taken him in, fed him, clothed him, and cared for him so long ago. Was it even that long ago? Germany couldn't remember, as most of his childhood memories were rather fuzzy and confusing.

But he did remember what had happened the night before.

_"I give up, West."_

_Germany stared at his older brother, the albino shaking his head and shrugging a bit. "I mean," he continued, "the war is over. The Axis Powers lost. That's nothing new. And your country is a total mess because of it. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a cause of it."_

_Germany violently shook his head and suddenly regained his voice. "What are you talking about?" he choked. "The war's been over for two years. Why are you bringing this up now?"_

_The two sat in a small bar in Berlin, one of the few buildings that had not been completely destroyed by the fighting. Sure, the place wasn't in the best condition, and the only beer served was cheep and warm, but it was better than nothing, and the brothers needed plenty of alcohol that night._

_Prussia's red eyes glanced away for a moment. "It's no secret, West," he sighed. "The Nazi party originated in my territory; that's what the Allies believe. To them, I'm the cause of the war in the first place."_

_"But it's not your original fault!" Germany defended, slamming his hands down on the old, wooden table at which they sat. "What was I supposed to do, Bruder? France and England demanded the unreasonable after World War I. My country was in ruins. I had to find a way to become strong somehow!"_

_Prussia suddenly smiled softly. "You got that from me," he laughed, taking a large gulp of beer. "You'll do anything to be strong at any time. Damn, I raised you to be so awesome." He laughed his famous "kesesese" and sighed deeply, staring at the wooden floor of the bar. "Maybe a little too awesome. I don't want you to end up like me."_

_"Bruder..."_

_"My people have been exiled, West. I've lost everything that made me awesome. It's just a matter of time before I'm completely dissolved." Prussia took another big gulp of his drink and groaned. "I can feel it, West. My body isn't what it used to be. I've been feeling so weak lately. I've just be feeling...not awesome."_

_For a moment, Germany couldn't speak. The breath caught in his throat and twisted his insides into a knot. He was finding it hard even to keep himself stable, to keep from falling over despite the fact that he was sitting down. His head was spinning, and his brain was working overtime to try to process what his brother was saying._

_Finally, he found his voice. "Bruder--!"_

_"WHAT, WEST?!"_

_Prussia finally turned to his little brother and glared, fierce, red eyes glaring into cloudy, blue ones. Germany could swear he saw a fire burning behind those red eyes, but it wasn't the same flame he could remember from so many years ago. No, that flame had been one of confidence and assured victory. This one was a flame of hell._

_Germany was cautious when he finally spoke. "What would I do if something happened to you?" he asked quietly. "Could I make you all better if you were hurt?"_

_Prussia was quiet._

_"Could I bring you back if you died?"_

_"Shut up."_

_Germany reeled back slightly, stunned at his brother's words._

_"Shut up, West," Prussia repeated, leather gloved hand gripping the mug of beer tightly. "I don't want to hear it. Stop talking like I'm gonna die." A pause. "I'll never die. I'm Prussia. I'm way too awesome to die, even if I'm dissolved. Even if those stupid Allies separate us, I'll be fine. You just worry about your own damn self for once. Forget about me. Forget about little Italy, too, would you? He abandoned you, West. The Pact of Steel was broken. And Japan left you to save his own ass. You just need to worry about you right now."_

_Germany shook his head. "But you're my brother," he hissed. "Japan was always away from us, being geographically so far away. He had his own plans for the war. And Italy...Italy..."_

_There was no use trying to say anything. Germany couldn't say anything bad about him, nothing too bad anyway._

_"Italy just went with whoever was strongest."_

_Prussia grinned. "That's one hell of a way to put it," he laughed. "I seriously don't know why you haven't jumped that little guy yet, West." He took another gulp and murmured, "Or...maybe you did...and you just don't remember it."_

_"What?"_

_"Never mind."_

_Silence._

_"I still won't let you give up," Germany finally spoke, breaking the awkward tension in the air. They were the only two in the bar, and the bartender was currently in the back room, so they were alone. It was still too uncomfortable, so Germany had to say something. "Do you know what will happen if we split?"_

_Prussia focused on his brother as if studying his tense, hard face._

_"Go on."_

_"...He'll get you."_

_A pause._

_"Russia."_

_Prussia looked away._

_"The Soviet Union. You'll come under communist rule, Bruder. There are still people living in my eastern territories and in the surrounding area! Do you really want to subject them to that psycho's oppressive rule?!"_

_"Oh, and you didn't do that?" Prussia shot back, eyes glaring daggers at his younger brother. "It would be nothing new to those people, West. They know what it's like to live in fear under constant watch."_

_"And that makes it okay?!" Germany slammed his beer mug down on the table, making it shake ominously. He gasped for breath, looking for something he could say to make his brother change his mind._

_But he knew it was futile. Prussia was too proud to do that._

_"Whatever," the albino groaned. "I'm outta here. Maybe I'll go crash at Italy's tonight." He left his half-empty beer mug on the table and began walking for the door. "I'm sure he'd let me sleep on his couch."_

_"Wait."_

_Prussia turned and saw Germany holding both their beers. He held Prussia's out for him._

_"What?"_

_"A toast."_

_"What??"_

_Germany kept his gaze on his brother. "A toast to everything...and to mend the hearts of our people and our allies."_

_Prussia shook his head. "How not awesome." He walked back to the his brother, took the mug, and slammed it against the opposite one. The two shattered, glass and beer crashing to the floor._

_The bar was quiet until Germany heard the front door open, and it was quiet again after his brother left._

Germany suddenly snapped from his memory and looked up only to see Russia nuzzling his nose into Prussia's cheek. "I'll take good care of you," he whispered, his accent thick and menacing. Prussia could smell vodka on his breath but made no move to escape.

He had made his decision.

And Germany was at a loss for words.

"I'll be taking things from here!" Russia announced cheerfully, still hanging onto the ex-nation. "From this day forward, East Germany is under the control of the Soviet Union. We should do something to be sure it stays that way, da?" He smiled and turned back to Prussia, whispering in his ear, "I'll have to do something to make sure you don't escape..." His attention went back to the Allies, specifically to one. "That alright with you...little America?"

Germany could feel America's grip on his cuffs tighten. The young nation's cheeks turned bright red, and his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "Screw you," he spat. "Stupid commie..."

"Call me what you like," Russia sighed, still smiling. "Have fun with West Germany." The large nation took Prussia's hand and started walking back towards his country, Prussia not making a single move to resist.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Germany started to scream. "I won't let you, Bruder!" he cried. "We can take them! We should fight together until our final breaths!"

Japan suddenly looked up and stared at the back of his former ally. "Germany-san," he sobbed, "it won't work." His own surrender two years prior still hurt.

Germany ignored him. "I'll do terrible things if you keep going," he gasped. "I...I'll spill all your favorite beer down the drain! Worse, I'll drink it all MYSELF!"

Prussia started to disappear with his new ruler.

"I'll eat nothing but pasta, and I'll let Aster, Blackie, and Berlitz starve! I'll say that Austria's more awesome than you! I won't take care of Italy!"

"Stop taking care of me," Italy sobbed, tears falling to the ground. "You're in this mess because you always had to take care of me..."

For once, Romano didn't shout his usual insults.

Prussia was nearly invisible.

"I won't take care of my country! I won't help it rebuild! I'll abandon my people!"

Germany sucked in as much air and he could and, in a last-ditch effort, screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I'LL NEVER TALK AGAIN!!"

But Prussia was already gone.

* * *

The next day was warm and sunny with the promise of springtime making its upcoming debut. Italy, dressed in casual clothes, walked along the destroyed streets of Berlin, ignoring the construction teams and the men discussing their plans for separating the two halves of the country.

"Ve~ I should go say hello to Germany," he said to himself as he continued to walk. "I'm sure he could use some cheering up. And I'll make him a big plate of pasta and wurst! He'll be so happy, ve~" He increased his speed until he made it to Germany's house. There, he saw the blonde sitting on his front porch, staring at the floor.

Italy put on his best smile and waved as he ran up to the house. "Good morning, Germany!"

Germany didn't reply.

_I'll never talk again._

_Oh, boy, you've left me speechless. _

_You've left me speechless, so speechless._

_And I'll never love again._

_Oh, boy, you've left me speechless._

_You've left me speechless, so speechless._

END


	5. Track 5: Dance in the Dark

Author's Note: I apologize in advance for any OOC-ness.

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Dance in the Dark**

**Monster: Lack of Privacy**

Hungary wouldn't let anything happen to any of them. As long as she was alive, she would do whatever it took to keep her sister nations safe and happy.

The fact that there were so few female nations was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that Hungary didn't have too many girls to take care of. After Mama Greece and Mama Egypt disappeared, leaving only sons behind, there seemed to be not a lot of hope left for the female population of the world. Hungary knew this all too well.

It wasn't that she didn't like Austria. On the contrary, she liked him very much. They had been married at one point. Granted, it was against her will, but she cheerfully and obediently performed her duties as a wife and maid, catering to Austria's every whim and caring for a young Italy whenever she could. In fact, she considered herself rather lucky. Even though she was controlled by another, more powerful country, she still existed, and after her ancient idols had died, she was thankful for anything.

But she also knew that others weren't so lucky.

The other female nations of the world had their own troubles, and Hungary knew that some of their situations were much more tragic than her own. Despite her harsh history of Ottoman occupation, Austrian control, a loss as an Axis Power, and communist rule until the later 20th century, she always felt like her sisters were worse off.

So she did the only thing she could for them: be their support.

The first Saturday of every month was an average day for the female nations of the world. They would go about their business as countries and go to the meetings at which they were expected. If they had an easy day, they would relax, temporarily forgetting about their duties. If there was trouble, they would work to fix the issue, however simple or complex it was. A very average day for any country of the world.

It was the night that was special.

Hungary liked to call their little organization "Dance in the Dark." The first Saturday of every month would have a black circle drawn in large, permanent marker on her calendar, and she grinned every time she saw it when she lifted the sheet to reveal the new month.

It would be at midnight.

"Come in."

One by one, the female nations of the world would walk into Hungary's home, following her into her basement. Each one would close every door, lock every window, and make sure that nothing could be heard or seen from outside. Hungary herself would forfeit her cameras for the night, leaving the women in peaceful, dark, private bliss.

Smiling, Hungary would light a single candle in the center of the basement, and the women would sit around it however they pleased, not caring if it was proper or ladylike. Hungary would then pass around the alcohol and the snacks, allowing each girl to take whatever she pleased. This was their heaven, the place they could do whatever they wanted without judgement from the boys.

"Stupid boys," Taiwan once said, taking a large handful of chips. "They make me worry so much. Why can't they see that I'm doing everything for them?! And yet, they ignore me! Stupid...stupid..."

"At least they like being around you," Belarus hissed, holding up a knife towards the light and admiring her reflection. "Brother does everything he can to stay as far away from me as possible. If I didn't know that he secretly loves me deep down, I'd say he was gay."

Ukraine turned her eyes towards her younger sister, the usual fear gone from them. She smiled. "We have no right to judge Brother, Sister."

The young girl's eyes snapped open. "What did you say?" she gasped. "Are you...implying...?"

The smile grew. "He doesn't stalk China for nothing."

"TAKE IT BACK!!"

Belarus pounced on her older sister, smacking her across the face. She held the knife high above her head and plunged it down, it missing Ukraine when the older women kicked her away. "WOO!! BITCH FIGHT!!" Belgium squealed, urging the two to keep it going. Taiwan started shouting about previous statements, Vietnam agreeing with her while keeping her attention on the fight.

Suddenly, the girls heard a harsh sound ring out through the air. Everyone went silent, staring in Hungary's direction. She held her frying pan in her strong grip, and she glared death at the former Soviet Union members.

"That's enough," she commanded, her tone serious and unwavering. "We're not here to fight with each other. Ukraine, let go of your sister."

The blonde obeyed.

"Belarus, put your knife away. We agreed that no weapons shall be present at these meetings."

The young girl eyed Hungary suspiciously. "And yet you get to hang onto your pan?"

"It's not a weapon. I only make it one when I need to."

Belgium laughed. "And you, Belarus, have a one-track mind when it comes to knives."

"BELGIUM!!"

The blonde gasped and turned towards Hungary, green eyes glowing in the low light. "Enough of your comments. That's not what we're here for either." When Belgium turned back towards the candle, showing no signs of replying, Hungary continued. "Let's keep this civil, Ladies. I don't want Liechtenstein to leave her scarred for life...again."

The little girl timidly raised her hand. "I...I'm okay."

"WHEN DO WE GET THE FISH?!"

Belgium rolled her eyes away from Seychelles. "Talk about a one-track mind..."

Hungary sighed and took her seat. "Alright, now that THAT'S over," she began, "let's get to the point of Dance in the Dark. Who's got a story?"

And that was how it often went. The girls shared their stories of injustice and abuse, fights and protests, their bosses and their boys. Once everything was off their chests, they could relax and truly enjoy their time together. These meetings only came around once a month, so when the girls did meet, there was often so much to say that the meetings would last until the early morning, when the sun was just about to rise.

For some, this wasn't such a big deal. Russia was in no hurry to see either Ukraine or Belarus any day, so they could stay out as long as they wanted to. Vietnam, unlike Taiwan, was often left alone by her brothers, as she hardly left her communist home at all. Seychelles was pretty unknown to a lot of the world, and France and England hardly visited her anymore, so no one noticed if she was ever gone (She was still thankful that she wasn't as unknown as Canada though.). Hungary volunteered to keep herself and the others locked up in her basement as long as possible, not wanting to have to put on her sweet face for Austria and _especially_ not wanting to have to deal with Prussia.

But the others weren't so lucky. Taiwan often felt obliged to go back to her brothers and take care of them, knowing that, if she didn't, South Korea would go nuts on China, and Hong Kong would be even more antisocial than normal. Both Belgium and Liechtenstein lived with their overprotective brothers and could hardly even make it out of their homes to go to these meetings in the first place. The fact that they could even show up in the first place was a miracle.

But Hungary didn't care about any of that. Whether the girls could stay in her home for five minutes or an entire night didn't bother her. All that mattered was helping them help themselves.

_"Liechtenstein. Taiwan. Belgium. Tell 'em how you feel, Girls!"_

"Onii-sama..._Switzerland_...I appreciate you worrying about me, and I'll always be loyal to you. You saved me! But I need to go out on my own once in a while. It's _my life_."

"I am sick and tired of you guys making me worry! Learn how to take care of your own damn selves!"

"Netherlands, my darling brother, you don't own me. I am my own separate, independent country. I'll always be your little sister, but you need to back off with this complex of yours. And change your hairstyle, would you? You remind me of this creep from one of America's trashy books."

_"Work your brunette, Seychelles. We'll haunt like Liberace, Vietnam."_

"Well, if no one's going to come visit me, that means more fish for me! Hee hee!"

"I won, America. Get over it."

_"Find your freedom in the music. Find your Jesus. Find your Kubrick, Belarus."_

"Brother...let's get married...married...married..."

_"You will never fall apart, Ukraine, you're still in our hearts. I'll never let you fall apart."_

"So now you say that I can talk to my little brother again? You're tapping into the side of me that wants to, aren't you? Well, now the side of me that doesn't want to is coming through. I'll decide if I want to or not, Boss."

And the female nations of the world thrived.

So it was exciting when they were introduced to a new one at the next World Meeting.

"This is Monaco," Germany explained, standing next to the young lady in glasses. "Please, make her feel welcomed."

The eight women sitting at the conference table smiled, all thinking the same thing.

_"Together, we'll dance in the dark."_

And Hungary gleefully anticipated pulling the calendar sheet away to reveal the next month.

_Some girls won't dance to the beat of the track._

_She won't walk away, but she won't look back._

_She looks good but her boyfriend says, "She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess."_

_Now the girl is stressed._

_She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess._

_Baby loves to dance in the dark, 'cuz when he's looking, she falls apart._

_Baby loves to dance, loves to dance in the dark._

END

Author's Note: This originally started out as a sort of Fight Club for the women of Hetalia, but I decided to tone it down for Liechtenstein's sake. XD Also, a few historical notes. First, Vietnam is referring to her war against America over the communist party taking power in her country. It's a very controversial war, and there is much confusion over who exactly won (at least here in America, my guess being that a lot of my country's people are in denial). I'm taking Vietnam's side here since, obviously, the communist party still has power. Second, Ukraine's recent elections put a new leader in power, and this leader wants to switch the country's focus from making friends with Western European and North American powers back to Russia. Ukraine has always been divided on whether or not to be involved with Russia after the fall of the Soviet Union. That is what Ukraine is referring to here.


	6. Track 6: Telephone

Author's Note: Special thanks to my friend Gillian for giving me the band name.

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Telephone**

**Monster: Suffocation from Work**

What the hell. Island nations were not supposed to be contacted this much.

It had all started after the World Meeting earlier that day. The meeting itself had been average, as average as any World Meeting could be anyway. America came up with another impossible, crazy scheme for saving the world that starred him as the hero. England disagreed with him. France disagreed with both of them. The three of them fought it out from there, making Italy giggle and Germany shout in frustration. Austria yelled at all of them, aghast that they could be so vulgar in public. Switzerland did his best to ignore him while aiming his gun at anyone who even so much as looked at Liechtenstein. Seychelles screamed about fish while Belarus screamed for her brother, eventually chasing him around the room as Ukraine sobbed on whatever she could grab first, later discovering that the thing was actually Canada. Cuba, who was sitting next to him, finally realized that it was him and not his brother America, though he forgot again not two minutes later. At one point, Denmark (jokingly) threatened to invade Stockholm, and Finland needed Iceland to help him hold Sweden back while Norway sent one of his spirit friends after the idiotic Dane. Greece snored on the entire time, only waking once to yell at Turkey, Egypt eventually having to drag the two out of the room as if they were misbehaving children.

Very average indeed.

At least Japan thought so.

Once the meeting was over, he stood from his seat, gathered his things, and made his way towards the door, satisfied even though nothing, once again, had gotten done. He listened to the other nations talk as he walked, overhearing their plans for their Friday nights.

"Come on, Iggy, let's go see that new action movie!"

"No way in bloody hell, you wanker."

"I'm crashing at your place tonight, Austria."

"No, you are _not, _Prussia."

"Ve~ I wanna make some pasta for dinner tonight..."

"_Mein gott,_ not again..."

Japan just smiled and walked through the doors to the hallway of the building. He didn't mind if everyone had plans. It meant more time to himself, and he cherished the moments that reminded him of the old days, when he didn't have to deal with the rest of the world.

As he walked on his way back home, Japan spotted Greece, hands shoved in his pockets, back hunched over, and several stray cats waiting for him outside the building. Japan found it so cute how the kittens followed him the moment he exited, and he quietly laughed at the thought of his Pochi-kun doing that to him.

"Greece-san," Japan called once he made it outside. He jogged a bit to keep up with the Mediterranean country and continued once he made it. "Are you okay? I certainly hope that Turkey-san did not annoy you too much."

Greece shrugged. "He's just an idiot. Nothing new."

Japan nodded. "Would you like to go out for a drink?"

Surprisingly, Greece shook his head. "No, thank you, Japan. I have plans." And he walked off.

Now _that_ was certainly something out of the ordinary. Greece had _plans_? A laid back country like him had something on his schedule? Whatever it was, it had to be extremely important, especially if Greece turned down a drinking offer to do it. Japan smiled at this change of events. It was refreshing to see Greece focused on something other than cats or a nap.

Quickly, Japan took his cell phone from his suit pocket and flipped it open. Scrolling through his contacts list, he pressed several buttons until he heard a ringing sound from the other end. The person who eventually picked up spoke Japanese to him.

"いそがしくない？"

"はい。そこにいるよ。"

* * *

He loved doing this.

The wig was spiked, colored bright pink and blue, hair flying all over the place. The contact lenses were two different colors, the right one red and the left one yellow. A black coat reached his knees, a rainbow shirt under it and black fishnets underneath the shirt. Black shorts connected to long legs of pants so the thighs could be seen. Boots reached his knees underneath the pant legs, the soles large and clunky and buckles crawling up his legs. Fingerless, leather gloves covered his hands while several rings adorned his fingers. Chains wrapped around his legs and boots, matching the many necklaces decorating his neck. Large earrings dangled from his lobes, and a ring pierced his left eyebrow. His eyes were dark with smudged make-up, and his skin was pale.

He was ready.

"Woof!"

"No, no, Pochi-kun, I'm sorry, you can't come tonight."

Japan pet the little dog's head and left his small, quiet house in favor of the busy streets of Shinjuku at night. People rushed about in all directions, and Japan could recognize others just like him, making their way to the club. Japan was especially excited about this particular night. And what kind of guy wouldn't be if he was the opening act for one of his favorite Visual Kei bands?

Japan could feel his inner fanboy go nuts as he was given his backstage pass. He placed it around his neck, loving the feel of it, and got his guitar ready. His fellow band members, all dressed in similar clothes, prepped themselves as well. They had been waiting for an opportunity like this for years. Japan was just happy to be away from the other countries of the world.

Suddenly, a loud, shrill ringing cut through the air. Eyes widening a bit, Japan flipped open his cell phone and answered it. "Hello?"

"Japan!" America's voice whined. "Iggy won't go to the movies with me. I don't understand why. It's supposed to be an awesome movie with a hero and a hot girl and an evil villain and--!"

"America-san," Japan sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm busy. I need to go. I will go see a movie with you some other time, okay? Goodbye."

And he hung up.

"大丈夫？" one of band members asked.

Japan nodded and placed the guitar strap around his neck, testing how it felt. It had been so long since he had played with his band, and he did not want anything to get in his way tonight.

Until the phone rang again. "Japan!" came Prussia's voice. "That prissy rich boy kicked me out, and Hungary smacked me with her pan. Can I crash at your place?"

"No, I'm sorry, Prussia-san, but I have no room at my house tonight. I'm sure that someone else can house you though. Goodbye."

He hung up again but barely even had a moment to go back to his guitar before the phone rang again. "Japan! Japan!" Italy squealed. "I made extra pasta and wanted to know if you wanted to come over and share some with Germany and me!"

Japan rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, Italy-san, I'm busy. I'll come over some other time, okay? Goodbye."

Once he hung up the phone for the third time, the host of the club began speaking, getting the crowd fired up for the performance. "Opening for The Gazette is a new, local band!"

But Japan could barely hear him. His phone was going off like _crazy_.

"Stop it," he hissed, glaring at the cell phone in his hands. "Stop calling me. I'm busy."

But it still rang.

And even when he was out on stage performing, Japan could still only hear his cell phone. It was going off backstage, the annoying ringtone blaring from the speakers louder than the J-rock music exploding from his guitar. At least, that was what it seemed like to him.

_"Stop calling,"_ he thought as he tried to focus on the music he played,_ "stop calling. I don't want to talk anymore. Just LEAVE ME ALONE!!"_ Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished Switzerland could hear him reject the people calling him, actually telling them that he was not going to comply with their wishes.

In an attempt to drown out the ringtone, Japan played louder. The rest of the band, noticing this, played along with his move, and the crowd roared in appreciation. But it didn't work for Japan. No, that damn ringtone was still playing. Why in the hell had he chosen the "Evangelion" theme song again?

But then he heard the victory music from "Final Fantasy VII." Text messages, too!

Once his performance was over, Japan took his bow next to his band mates and ran off the stage. He grabbed his cell phone, which had temporarily quieted down, and scrolled through the missed calls list. America, France, Netherlands, England, America, Switzerland, Prussia, Belgium, some name he didn't recognize, America, China, a name he couldn't remember knowing, Italy, Germany, America, America, America...

And the text messages. America. America. America. They were all America! All except one, which was a chain letter from Russia, the threat being "If you do not send this to ten people, you will wake up one with me. ^J^"

Japan shook his head, somewhat in disgust and somewhat in disbelief. How had he become so popular in a matter of mere hours? And all of America's messages were just plain ridiculous. Japan vaguely wondered why he would call him so much, and then he remembered that he was _America_ calling _Japan._

"オタク。"

Japan shoved the phone into his pocket and stomped off towards the crowd, ignoring his band mates. Now he just needed to be alone. And maybe a drink. Yes, he definitely needed a drink.

But something else caught his eye on his way over. At first, Japan couldn't believe it. This was something _very_ out of the ordinary indeed; it was almost too weird to be true.

_"What's that sci-fi show England-san watches all the time?"_ he thought. _"'Doctor Who' is it? Yes, I think so. I feel like I'm in one of its episodes. This is far too strange."_

Greece was sitting at the bar.

Dressed in punky clothes.

Shouting into his cell phone.

Strange like "Doctor Who" indeed.

"Shut up, SHUT UP!!" Japan could hear Greece shout over The Gazette's blaring music. "LEAVE ME ALONE!! Did you just call me to annoy me? Look, even if you keep calling me, I'm not going to run out of here and meet up with you. I wouldn't meet up with you even if I wasn't busy...Yes, you idiot Turk, I'M BUSY."

Greece suddenly gasped when he felt his phone be taken away. He looked to the side to see a young man dressed up for the club, his cell phone to his ear. His eyes widened a bit in awe.

Japan smirked. _"He doesn't recognize me."_

"Excuse me, Sir," he calmly and politely said into the phone, "this young man does not wish to speak to you right now. I'm sure it's not because he doesn't like you," Japan mentally laughed out loud. "but we're at a party here. We all deserve a little time alone, don't we? Plus, one of my favorite songs is coming on, so I'll have to leave you now. Goodbye. I'm sure your friend will call you back later."

And he hung up.

Greece just stared as Japan handed the phone back to him. "That should do it," the shorter man said. "I hope he doesn't bother you anymore tonight."

Greece nodded. "Thanks. Uh...you speak English?"

Japan nodded back. "I have to know it for work."

"Work..." Greece murmured, pondering a thought. Japan smiled at how long it took him to continue. It always did. "Have you ever been to America?" the Grecian finally asked.

"No," Japan lied.

"Oh...there's this place," Greece continued, looking up towards the ceiling of the club. "It's called Grand Central Station. It's in New York City. It's...really busy...kinda like this."

At that moment, Japan's cell phone rang _again_. That was it. No more. Japan couldn't take it anymore. He pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the caller. America. No surprise.

Greece tilted his head. "Are you going to answer it?"

Very calmly, Japan closed the phone, silencing the ringing. He sighed blissfully at the silence. In that moment, everything was silent. No anime ringtones. No video game music text tones. No J-rock blaring from the speakers of a Visual Kei band in the background. No one. Nothing.

Silence.

And then, without a warning, Japan threw the phone to the ground and forcefully brought his foot down, heavy boots and all. The cell phone shattered into a million pieces, scattering all over the place. He smirked when he pulled his foot away, basking in the glory that was a victory for his sanity.

Greece couldn't speak.

He didn't have to.

"Let's dance."

And they did. They danced until the early morning when The Gazette finished its performance. One by one, the crowd thinned, the music junkies making their way home after a long night of partying. Japan ran ahead and smiled to himself when he heard Greece looking for him. There was no way his friend was going to see him like this in the daylight. Be discovered and have his cover blown? Never! So he kept running, ignoring the Grecian's calls for him to stop.

He didn't stop until he made it home.

* * *

Two days later, another World Meeting was called. Germany claimed that, because less than usual had gotten done during the previous meeting, everyone needed to come back so that they could come to some sort of agreement on world issues.

Greece was still in Tokyo when the meeting was called, so he decided to call Japan. It would be nice to have some company on his way to the meeting area. He pulled out his phone while the light was red.

But when he dialed Japan's cell phone number, he got the most interesting response.

_"We're sorry. The number you have reached is not in service at this time. Please check the number or try your call again."_

Greece nearly dropped his phone and looked up. Japan, dressed in a suit and carrying a small briefcase, was standing across the busy intersection of Shibuya.

When their eyes met, he winked.

_Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna think anymore._

_I got my head and my heart on the dance floor._

_Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna talk anymore._

_I got my head and my heart on the dance floor._

_E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e, Stop telephoning me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e._

_I'm busy, e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e, stop telephoning me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e._

_Can call all you want, but there's no one home._

_And you're not gonna reach my telephone._

_'Cuz I'm out in the club and I'm sipping that bubb._

_And you're not gonna reach my telephone._

END

Author's Note: I can't believe I have never seen Visual Kei!Japan before.

Translations:

"いそがしくない？" = "You're not busy?"

"はい。そこにいるよ。" = "Yes, I'm there."

"大丈夫？" = "Are you alright?"

"オタク。" = "Otaku."


	7. Track 7: So Happy I Could Die

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: So Happy I Could Die**

**Monster: Addiction**

It didn't take much to make Denmark happy. The fact that he was awesome made him happy. Winning anything against Sweden made him happy. Remembering his Viking days made him happy. Being a great place for business made him happy, and being the home to many happy people made him happy.

Screw Disney World. Denmark was the Happiest Place on Earth. (1)

But there were two things above all else that made him happy. He could live without everything but these two things. He could be extremely poor. He could have a corrupted government. He could have a weak army or even no army at all. He could be owned by another country (except maybe if that country were Sweden; that would suck) and be treated as nothing more than an unimportant colony. Yes, his life could be that miserable, and he would still be happy with only two things.

Alcohol and Norway.

Norway was so beautiful. To Denmark, he was the most beautiful thing in existence. He loved the pale skin and the light, delicate hair. He loved the little curl that seemed to float away from the man's head yet follow him wherever he went. He loved how slender and agile his body was, and he loved how his ass and legs looked in those skinny pants.

Denmark even loved his cold, emotionless face and the way those uncaring, dead eyes glared at him with internal rage. Denmark found it adorable the way he always kept his emotions bottled up inside, never daring to openly express himself. He didn't need to, and Denmark thought he was so cool. Of course, Denmark was also horrible at reading the atmosphere (along with America and Italy, who were still looking for that book), so he never caught the almost non-existent hints that could clue him in on what Norway was feeling. In times like that, Sweden would bring his wife, son, and dog back home while Iceland merely covered his puffin's eyes. No one wanted to be around when Norway finally snapped.

But Denmark still loved him more than anything, even if he often beat the crap out of him and haunted his dreams with troll spirits.

Too bad Norway didn't know that.

And that was precisely why Denmark was sitting in a club in downtown Copenhagen with a bottle of red wine.

This was a very normal routine for him. After a long day of being awesome and working, he liked to have a drink. Who wouldn't? But this was different. He had spent a long day with his fellow Nordics, and Norway, once again, refused to acknowledge him.

"We should go out tonight!" Denmark exclaimed to the shorter blonde. "Just you and me, Nor. Wanna go for a drink? Maybe to a club?"

Norway was, to put it lightly, not amused. "No," he said bluntly, expression not changing in the slightest. He didn't even offer an explanation for his rejection.

But Denmark didn't give up. "Aw, come on, Nor! It'll be fun! You don't get out enough. You live next to that intimidating bear, so it's no wonder you never do anything fun. And Ice is just so far away from the rest of us that it takes you forever to go to his place and get back. You should come hang out with me tonight! We'll have a good time, I promise!"

One of Norway's eyebrows raised ever so slightly, a move that meant he was pondering what the Dane was telling him. He was quiet for a long time, hoping the man would get it, and then he remembered that he was talking to Denmark. The guy was denser than America with burgers on the brain. Sighing slightly, Norway shook his head. "No, Denmark, I'm not going out with you tonight. I can barely put up with you during the day; I don't want to have to deal with you at night."

"But, Nor!"

A large, angry troll suddenly appeared in Denmark's face, and the tall man shut up in an instant. Looking past the large creature to see Norway, he gulped. The man's face was especially hard, meaning he was angry.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

And he walked off with his troll friend.

So that was why Denmark was sitting in the club in downtown Copenhagen with a bottle of red wine. More importantly, that was why he was sitting in the club in downtown Copenhagen with a bottle of red wine...unhappy.

"This is so not cool," he groaned, bringing the bottle to his lips. "Damn you, Nor, I love you so much..." He took a big gulp of the red liquid, loving the way in somewhat burned his mouth and slid down his throat to warm his insides. His whole body felt warm. So warm and blissful.

"Denmark?"

The Nordic looked up to see Netherlands, a close neighbor of his, sit down at the bar next to him. "What's up?" the Dutchman asked. "You okay? You don't look so good."

Denmark shrugged. "Stupid Nor..."

Netherlands nodded, understanding the man's plight. He often tried to make a pass at Japan, but the little Asian had Greece. And whenever he tried to flirt with Indonesia, the Southeast Asian would remind him of his colonization days and immediately dismiss him. "Neither one of us is exactly lucky with our love lives, I guess," he sighed. Looking up at the bottle, he smiled softly. "What have you got there?"

"Eh, this?" Denmark asked, pointing to the drink. "Oh, it's just some cheap red wine."

"Red wine? I thought you only drank beer."

"I felt like a change."

This answer seemed to satisfy Netherlands, and the man turned to the bartender to ask for a beer. The bartender nodded and went to fulfill the order.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Denmark finally asked. "I thought your place was full of clubs and plenty of other..._ahem_, fun things."

Netherlands rolled his eyes. "Look, it's all their own choice, okay? And it's a legal profession in my country. We have a pretty low crime rate because of it!"

Denmark smirked. "Amsterdam must be a pretty happy place, too." He took another big gulp of wine as Netherlands thanked the bartender for his drink and took his own gulp.

"I can't believe that you're getting so bent out of shape because of that emotionless prick," the Dutchman finally said. "He obviously has no feelings for you, Den. Hell, I don't think he has feelings for anyone!"

"Maybe Ice," Denmark said back. "They're brothers." Another gulp of wine. "Damn, this is really good for cheap stuff. Hey, excuse me!" He turned to the bartender. "Can I get another bottle of this? Thanks!"

Netherlands smirked. "Well, whatever makes you happy."

At this, Denmark paused and turned to his friend. "Happy?" he repeated. "I don't need anything to _make_ me happy, Dude! I'm naturally happy! I'm the damn happiest country in the whole damn world! This is just adding to it. I'm so happy...so happy I could...!" He looked to the counter when he heard a small clack and saw that his drink had arrived. After the bartender removed the cork for him, Denmark took several huge gulps and laughed aloud. "So happy I could drink all night! I'm just that fired up!"

Netherlands rolled his eyes and took another sip. "Just don't overdo it. We have a World Meeting tomorrow, and I am _not_ dragging your hungover ass to it."

"I DON'T GET HANGOVERS!!" Denmark laughed. "I told you! I could drink all night and be just fine!"

"SHUT IT OVER THERE, YOU BUGGER!!"

The two North European countries looked across the bar to see a blonde head and caterpillar eyebrows glaring at them. "England?" Netherlands asked rather stupidly. "What are you doing here? Your place is famous for its pubs."

"STUPID...FRENCH...BLOODY FROG!!"

Well, that explained a lot.

"France pissed him off again," the Dutchman murmured. "Makes sense he'd be here. Your place is pretty close to France's right?"

Denmark ignored him and took another big gulp of wine.

"_Norway...Norway..."_ the Dane thought, a hand unconsciously reaching down to his crotch, _"dammit, Nor, I love you so damn much."_

"YOU WANKER!!"

"...Literally."

Denmark snapped out of his trance and looked up. England was still staring at him, his mouth agape in horror, and Netherlands wore a look of absolute disgust. "I don't need to see that," he continued. "If you wanna do that, go home."

"Stupid Nor..." Denmark whispered. "Stupid..." His hand left his crotch and went back to the bottle, chugging the wine down as fast as he could.

"Go easy on that crap!" Netherlands urged. "Den, seriously, you shouldn't be here. I don't think you're mentally stable at the moment. Go home, would you? Want me to take you?"

"Hell no," Denmark gasped, bringing the bottle away, "I'm having way too much of a good time here. Can't you see that?" He laughed like crazy, his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. "I mean, there's no one in the world happier than me. I'm so happy...so happy..."

"Forget it." Netherlands stood and took another big gulp of his beer. He then set the half-empty mug on the counter along with some money. "I can't take this anymore. I'm going home."

"KILLJOY!!" Denmark shouted, slamming the wine bottle down. "I thought you liked to have fun, too! Be happy, dammit!"

"I can't have fun if you're being an idiot!" the Dutchman shouted back as he made his way for the door. "Sure, I like to go out and have a good time, but there's a limit to that kind of stuff. You should seriously go home, Den. Go home, get some rest, and forget about Norway."

"Norway?!" England repeated, somewhat limping over to the two. "THAT'S who you're wanking to? Bloody hell, you could at least choose someone worth it!"

Netherlands eyed England. "And France is?"

"OH, SHUT UP!!"

Netherlands rubbed his temples, trying to ease his headache. "Okay, I can't take this anymore. I'm going home." Without another word, he walked out of the bar and hailed a taxi.

"Bah, let him go," Denmark snapped, finishing the wine. "He was ruining my good time. I'm happy, dammit. HAPPY!!"

This time, it was England's turn to be suspicious. "You think you're so happy like this?"

"Why shouldn't I be?! I'm in a bar in my favorite city ever, and I've got the best damn bottle of red wine in the world! I'm the HAPPIEST DAMN NATION ALIVE!!"

England nodded and set his own money down on the counter. "Keep telling yourself that." He muttered something about France one last time before leaving. Despite his earlier outbursts, he wasn't as drunk as he seemed, as he could still walk in a straight line out the door.

Denmark shook his head. "They're all idiots," he growled. "I'm happy. So happy!" He turned to the bartender. "Another bottle!"

When this one arrived, Denmark chugged the whole thing without coming up for air until every last drop was gone. When he did stop, his face was even more flushed than before, and tears were making their way out of his eyes. He felt numb yet light, as if he were flying. He felt nothing.

Nothing but happiness.

"I'm so happy," he whispered as he fell to the floor, not hearing the bartender's shouts, asking him if he was okay. "So happy..." he continued. "Norway, can you see me like this? I'm so happy...so happy..."

_"So happy I could die..."_

* * *

The next morning, Norway walked into the bar in downtown Copenhagen, knowing it was where he could find the missing Nordic. When he spot the messy blonde hair and black coat, he sighed.

"Come on, you idiot," he said as he walked to the Dane, "the five of us have to head to the World Meeting. Get your ass up and take a cold shower."

No response.

"Den, come _on,_" Norway groaned, "I don't have time for this. Quit acting like and kid."

Nothing.

Norway bent down to Denmark's level. "Den? Come on, get up!" He reached out and gripped the man's shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Den! Den!"

Still nothing.

"Den?" he said quietly. "Hey, Den! Den, let's go. Stop it!" Norway's eyes grew wide, and his body started to shake. "Den? Den! Denmark!" He rolled the man onto his back and shook him harder. "Denmark! DENMARK!!"

Silence.

"Oh, God," Norway panted, "oh, God, Den, don't leave me." Gripping the collar of the Dane's coat, he saw something wet paint the garment. He didn't notice that he had begun to cry. "Denmark...Denmark..."

Norway didn't hear the other three Nordics run into the bar and surround Denmark. Finland screamed for help while Iceland pulled out his cell phone, dialing for an ambulance. Sweden picked the Dane up and set him down on one of the cushioned benches at a booth in the bar.

No, Norway didn't hear or see any of that.

He could only feel his own sadness.

"Don't go," he repeated, whispering as the tears continued to fall, "don't go, Den."

_"I love you."_

_Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine._

_Stars in our eyes 'cuz we're having a good time._

_Eh-eh, so happy I could die._

_Be your best friend, yeah, I'll love you forever._

_Up in the clouds, we'll be higher than ever._

_Eh-eh, so happy I could die._

_And it's alright._

END

Author's Note: (1) Denmark was actually called "the happiest place on earth" by Forbes magazine from 2006 to 2008. Plus, there's also this demotivational poster:

http:(//)verydemotivational(.)com(/)2010(/)02(/)26(/)demotivational-posters-denmark/

Just take the parentheses out and, well, I do believe I have made myself quite clear. As for the appearance of Indonesia, I know that it hasn't been personified into the series yet, but I was internally squealing to myself the entire time I was learning about Dutch colonization there in a class at college, so I couldn't resist. XD

I also wanted to turn Netherlands into a responsible character because I feel like he wouldn't abuse what's legal in his country. Maybe I've just been watching too much Travel Channel lately.


	8. Track 8: Teeth

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Teeth**

**Monster: Reality**

"Don't be scared."

Click. Cha-ching.

"I've done this before."

Rustle. Click.

"I'll show him my teeth."

Swish. Rustle.

A different voice. "I'm counting on you, America."

Zip. Click.

"I've got this, Mr. President."

With those words, America turned and walked out of the Oval Office, his bomber jacket closed, a gun securely set at his side. It had been a while since he had had this feeling, this feeling of being watched and being tense because of it. His happy, confident smile was gone, replaced with a grim, straight line across his face. His eyes, normally as clear and bright as the lovely seas that bordered his beautiful country, were cloudy, dull, and full of confusion. His skin was pale and blotchy, and dark rings circled his eyes, a sign he had not slept properly in days, maybe even weeks. America, to put it simply, was a mess, but that didn't stop him from fulfilling his duty.

Not as a hero. As a country.

Even though America was so young, he had been through so much. He could remember being found as a tiny toddler wandering the grassy plains of the wild, untamed American lands. France and England had fought over him, and, sure enough, England had won the rights to turn the little boy into a colony.

Those days with the two of them together had been their happiest. Nothing in the world could separate them, as they loved each other so much. America practically worshipped England back then, constantly talking about how he wanted to grow up to be a powerful nation just like his older brother figure.

But that happiness could only last so long. America could feel his rebellious side grow in power. England was barely home anymore, too busy with his other colonies and fighting against France. America was lonely. He was still just a young child, a young child all alone in a huge mansion with no one there to protect or love him.

Maybe that was why he grew up so fast. And, before he knew it, he was fighting England for his independence. He could remember the day it happened so vividly, so clearly, despite the pouring rain and the rage building within him. No, maybe it hadn't been real rage. Maybe he had just wanted to tell himself that it was real rage so he'd have an excuse to fight the Brit. Yes, that was all it had been. America still loved England like his older brother; it didn't take a genius to figure that one out. And England sure as hell still loved America.

"As if I could really shoot you!" he had sobbed, falling to his knees. "Dammit...This wasn't supposed to happen this way..."

Almost guiltily, America began his long road towards becoming his own country. Spain and France cheered him on, as they had allied themselves with him to get some revenge on England. Canada even gave his quiet cheers for his older brother from across the border. America, surprisingly, could hear them, and he often thanked his brother for the support.

Until Canada burned down the White House in 1812. "That's for trying to invade my lands!" he had cried as he stomped his way back to his territory. Needless to say, Canada's little temper tantrum had taught America a good lesson, and he apologized until he and his brother were on good terms again.

But the worst was still to come.

America _still_ had nightmares about the Civil War, the time when he would wake up every morning only to stare into the crazy face of his doppelgänger. God, how he had scared him in the beginning. The moment South Carolina seceded from the Union, the Confederacy, the name by which the doppelgänger went, had appeared. America had been asleep when it had happened, so the look-alike stared at him all night, smile wide and toothy, eyes huge and filled to the brim with insanity. When America had finally woken, he screamed loud enough for his entire country to hear.

Or what was left of it anyway.

"You are no longer 'America'," his boss at the time had said. "From now on, you are 'the Union.' America has split up. It no longer exists."

America couldn't describe the way he had felt if someone paid him. His boss had said those words so carelessly, as if it was just another part of his morning announcements. For that, America hated him. Why had his people elected this guy in the first place? Because most people wanted to contain slavery? That was absolute crap! And as if slavery was the worst issue he had to deal with!

"My country is on the verge of ruin, and THAT'S all you can say?!" he had shouted, close to tears. "How _dare_ you?! My name is America! It always will be!" He let a single tear fall from both his eyes and wiped them away quickly, not wanting to show weakness in front of his boss.

The man before him sat in his chair and sighed. "I wasn't done yet."

"Huh?" America looked up, suddenly anxious to hear what else the man had to say.

Slowly, the tall man rose to his feet and put his hands on America's shoulders. He looked the young man dead in the eye and said, "We're going to keep you together. If you, the Union, stay together, we can win against the Confederacy. Trust me, we can do this."

America gulped audibly and looked past his boss. There was his doppelgänger, staring at him, the same crazy grin there on his face. Ever since that first morning of secession, America had realized that, no matter where he went, his doppelgänger would be there, watching him, never saying a word, just smiling. He had stopped trying to get the look-alike to leave him alone; there was no way it was going to leave, not at this rate. He had also stopped trying to sleep at night, knowing that the doppelgänger was standing over him in bed, watching him like a hawk. America quickly concluded that the look-alike did not need sleep and, thus, could watch him all the time, following him and being there, staring at him with those wide, insane eyes every time he looked.

This both relieved and terrified America. On one hand, he had absolutely no privacy. His doppelgänger was constantly there, watching his ever move, never speaking a word. It was creepy as hell, that was for sure, but it meant something extremely important to America, and his boss picked up on it, too, as they stood in the President's office.

If the Confederacy couldn't leave the Union, it meant that there was still a chance for reunification. It meant that America could go back to being America, back to being a beautiful, powerful country, a land of hopes, dreams, and opportunities.

Nervously yet confidently, America nodded to his boss, purposefully refusing to make eye contact with his doppelgänger. "I understand, Mr. President. Thank you. I will fight however long it takes."

"Let's do this together," the President said back, still gripping America's shoulders tightly. "Country and leader. America and President. Alfred F. Jones and Abraham Lincoln."

The war raged on until 1865. During that time, America had never felt worse. His body ached painfully, knowing that so many Americans were dying for what they felt was right. Fathers, sons, grandfathers, brothers, cousins, friends, so many people died. What was worse was that those people, those people who had once been so close, often fought on different sides. America could still remember watching two brothers fight, one for the Union and one for the Confederacy. They had shot each other at the same time, thus dying at the same time, right before America's eyes. America made a silent swear never to provoke his own brother ever again; he never wanted to have to fight sweet Canada.

One morning in 1865, America woke to find himself alone in his bedroom. His heart both soared with relief and plunged down to his stomach with fear. The disappearance of the doppelgänger meant either one of two things: he could be a united country or a completely separate one.

He didn't hold back his tears of joy when his boss smiled at him in his office.

"Good morning, America."

Losing Lincoln not too long later was hard on America. He had spent so much time with the man, and the two had fought so hard to keep their country alive. And, with a single bullet, the man was gone, and America was left alone to move on.

Slowly, the country rebuilt itself. South Carolina, along with her southern siblings, apologized to America, but the nation was just too happy to have his family back. He gathered all the former-Confederate states into a big hug and squeezed them tightly against his chest.

"I love you all so much," he whispered. "I'm so glad you're all back."

Eventually, America recovered and the lands prospered. But the young man could still feel as though something was wrong. Just south of his now-unified country, a new battle was brewing. Cuba wanted his independence from Spain, and he wanted it _now._

But Spain wouldn't back down. "You're _my_ colony," the normally-happy nation hissed, teeth menacing and unforgiving with the words. "I get to decide who you are and how your place is run, not you! And if you think I'm just giving you up the way England did America, you are sorely mistaken."

America watched in horror from Florida's apartment as Spain mercilessly tortured Cuba. He threw the Cuban natives into prison camps and completely took over the territory, killing anyone who got in his way.

Finally, America had had enough. "I just need an excuse," he muttered to himself as he watched the battles rage. "If only I had an excuse for declaring war on Spain. Then I could save Cuba..."

It was as if God had heard him that day, because the very next one was full of surprises indeed.

America gasped as he read the newspaper headline: "SPANISH OFFICIALS RESPONSIBLE FOR SINKING OF _USS MAINE._"

"Oh, my God..."

And, just like that, America declared war on Spain.

Much like with the Civil War, America still had nightmares about the Spanish-American War, specifically its causes. Even in the modern day, he still considered the thought that Spain's men were not behind the explosion that caused the sinking. Perhaps there had been some sort of accident, or maybe there had been something wrong with the ship from the beginning. But America knew it was pointless to think about such things. His people were furious with Spain, and he knew what he had to do.

The fighting lasted from April of 1898 to August of the same year. With America's victory came sweet spoils indeed: Puerto Rico and Guam became his territories, and Cuba, along with the Philippines, would eventually declare independence. America could still remember the look on Spain's face when he realized he had lost. His empire crumbled, leaving him to start all over again.

"And this is how you repay someone who helped you gain independence?"

America's nightmares about his past were constant.

The early 1900s saw a huge wave of immigration into the country. America nearly lost track of how many different countries became represented in his territory, and his population skyrocketed to a height he never though possible. That was cause for celebration, but he couldn't ignore what was going on in Europe, not for too long anyway.

He could still picture Belgium's face when Germany attacked. Such a beautiful, young lady was in tears, her face covered in blood and mud. America had to do something; he was the hero after all! But something stopped him.

"What if I go to war when my country needs me here the most?" he asked himself in bed one night. "What if...Oh, God, what if something happens to me again?" The image of his doppelgänger flashed through his mind, and he immediately rolled over, though he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep after that.

But he couldn't just ignore the war, so he joined in 1917.

"Dammit!" Germany shouted, his sharp teeth biting down on his lips so hard they bled. "Dammit! We need to cut supplies going to America off!"

But it was too late.

Germany surrendered on November 11, 1918.

America let out a huge sigh of relief as he hit his bed that night, exhausted from the battles. "England and France can take care of themselves from now on," he murmured as he peacefully drifted off to sleep. "I wanna be neutral for a little while..."

After that, America spent most of his days partying. The Jazz Age had begun. The 1920s were the decade of fun, happiness, and prosperity. America could remember his handsome, new clothes and his new rhythm for music. Jazz was unlike anything he had ever heard before, and he loved it.

Only to have his world come crashing down in 1929.

"There's no more money," America gasped as he literally watched the stock market crumble to pieces before him. People ran in all directions screaming, some people jumping to their deaths the moment the announcement was made. People had put their entire lives in the stock market, and there was nothing left.

Nothing worth living for.

"Brother, can you spare a dime?"

Canada cried as he watched his brother fall to the ground, shaking and in pain. "I'm sorry, Brother," he sobbed, "I have nothing either."

The only thing that gave America and his people even a glimmer of hope was the election of a new President. America was there the day the man was sworn in. He looked so confident, like nothing was wrong. America wanted to slap him, to punch him, to make him realized that they were royally screwed. Yet he stayed silent the entire time, giving his full attention to his new boss.

"...we have nothing to fear except fear itself!"

Those words echoed in America's head the moment his boss had uttered them. He couldn't say anything; he couldn't hear anything except those words.

And when he stood in his new boss's office for the first time, facing the man, he cried. "We'll fix everything," the man assured him, smiling gently. "Don't worry, America. I know that you're still hurting from your early days, but we can do this. Your land is a land of opportunity, and, right now, we have the opportunity to rebuild and grow stronger."

"President Roosevelt..."

It hurt America terribly, but he couldn't help his European friends in their time of need. Germany had come back and was stronger than ever, invading all his neighbors and killing anyone who stood in his way. America vaguely wondered how any country could kill his own people, but he turned a blind eye to the fighting. "I have my own troubles," he kept reminding himself. "I need to be the hero for my own people before I can be the hero for anyone else. Besides, if I go to war against Germany now, I'll ruin myself. I still need time to recover."

His wake-up call came on Sunday, December 7, 1941.

America held tiny Hawaii as she sobbed into his shirt. She was hurting so badly, yet there was nothing America could do but watch as the planes circled above the naval base, dropping their bombs and sinking his ships. America didn't stare at anything in particular, just looking at all the damage done to his precious Pearl Harbor. But when he looked up, he found what he was looking for.

Japan stared down at him from his plane, dressed in black and grinning, teeth bare for him to see.

America lost it. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" he screamed above the attack, above Hawaii's wails. "DO YOU HEAR ME, JAPAN?! I'M GOING TO FRIGGIN' KILL YOU!!"

America declared war on the Axis Powers not long after the attack, and all sides fell to the Allies in 1945. Germany and Italy held each other as England, France, and Russia held them down, and Japan finally bowed his head to America. Two of his own cities, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, were destroyed, thanks to the atomic bombs.

It was over.

But not for long.

"I know that we were allies during the war," America hissed, "but I hate you, you stupid commie. You're going down if it's the last thing I ever do."

"I accept your challenge, darling America. We shall see who is the stronger power, da?" Russia's grin was sweet and innocent, just showing a bit of his teeth.

Their first indirect fight came sooner than anyone could have guessed. "That commie is backing the offensive forces in Korea!" America shouted as soon as the news of the conflict reached his ears. "Shit, Russia's gonna pay for this..."

And if the conversion of North Korea to Russia's ideals wasn't bad enough, China had joined their fight. When America found out that the country, once his ally, had come under communist rule, he couldn't believe it. China was one of the oldest surviving countries in the world. He had done so much during his life, and he had overcome so many obstacles.

"So you really need a commie's help to get you out of this?"

"I'm sorry, America..."

"No, you're not."

The conflict ended with a stalemate and an American hero feeling less like one every day.

But that didn't stop America's hatred of Russia and his communist ways. No, that was only the warm-up for the real tragedy.

America tried to convince himself every single day that he was doing the right thing. He had to save her from communism and its brainwashing powers. He had to show her that he was right, that Russia and China were wrong. So he kept on fighting against his better knowledge.

And yet he had lost.

He had lost to a _girl._

"Get out of my country," Vietnam spat, her face bitter, angry, and hateful, her teeth full of dirt and blood. "I never asked for your help, you idiot. I can take care of my own damn self; I don't need you to save me! You're no hero, America. You're just a world superpower who doesn't want to admit that there might be someone stronger out there! End your stupid war with Russia already! You can both be strong countries without hating each other!" She fell to the abused ground and sobbed, her napalm-induced wounds burning and scarring her for life.

America did not sleep after he and his soldiers reluctantly pulled themselves from Vietnam. Her words repeated themselves over and over in his head well past the day the Soviet Union finally fell.

"Looks like you finally got what you wanted, America," Russia whispered as he collapsed, his country falling with him.

_"You're no hero, America."_

He suddenly wondered if it was all worth it.

* * *

The phone call came during the midmorning. America was peacefully sitting in his Washington D.C. home, munching on a doughnut and watching a rerun of _The Daily Show_ on Comedy Central. Laughing a bit, he swallowed before picking up the ringing phone.

"Good morning! America speaking!"

"Daddy..."

America dropped his half-eaten doughnut. "New York?" he gasped. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Daddy...it hurts..."

The television suddenly switched to a breaking news report. People ran screaming in all directions as smoke enveloped New York City. America watched the screen in horror as one of the towers that made up the World Trade Center collapsed to the ground, taking hundreds, maybe thousands with it. It wasn't too long until the second tower began falling, a plane flying right into it.

Without thinking, America grabbed his jacket and fled the house. He jumped into his car and drove as fast as he possibly could towards New York. He could hear people screaming as he drove, even though they were miles away from New York City.

Eventually, America came upon the city. The bridges leading into Manhattan were closed, and cars, buses, and trucks desperately tried to escape the carnage. Staring at the smoke rising from the World Trade Center, America jumped out of his car and ignored all reason as he broke into the area, officers shouting for him to stop.

But he didn't stop. Not until he made it to New York's downtown apartment building. "New York!" he called, frantically searching for his son. "New York, where are you?!"

"Daddy!"

America looked up and saw that his son had collapsed in the middle of the sidewalk. People were nearly trampling him in their attempts to run away from the destruction. America ran against all of them and pulled his son into his arms.

"It hurts..." the boy whispered into his father's chest. "It hurts so bad."

America held New York close as their world dissolved around them.

On September 11, 2001.

* * *

"Has it already been two years since then?" America asked himself as he walked down the strangely-empty streets of Washington D.C. He was a broken man, as his country was stuck on the tragedy that had caused his little New York such pain. Sure, the country was starting to pull itself back together, but the people still had a long road ahead of them.

America's boss had a plan.

"We won't let them take us," he had said. "I'm a bit scared of what this could turn into, but it's something we need to do."

And America had agreed, reassuring him that he could do it. After all, he had faced trouble in the past. He had broken away from England, defeated his dark side, freed Cuba from Spain's rule, prevented Germany from taking over Europe, gotten his revenge on Japan, and seen the Soviet Union fall, proving, in America's mind, that his country was superior.

So when America felt the presence of someone following him, he barely even flinched. His heart rate was normal, despite the menacing aura coming from behind. He could feel the thick tension as he continued to walk, eventually making it to a dark alley. The person followed him until he stopped at the end.

Zip. Click.

Rustle. Click.

Cha-ching.

"Hey, Iraq."

He turned just his head, holding the gun in his hands as his grin split his face, showing off his pearly whites.

"Show me your teeth."

_Tell me something that'll save me; _

_I need a man who makes me alright (man who makes me alright)._

_Tell me something that'll change me;_

_I'm gonna love you with my hands tied._

_Show me your teeth._

_Just tell me when._

_Show me your teeth._

_Open your mouth, boy._

_Show me your teeth._

_Show me whatcha got._

_Show me your teeth teeth teeth teeth._

END


	9. Track 9: Bad Romance Remix

**Author's Note:** Well, we've arrived at the track finale with the second part of the "Bad Romance" fic. Needless to say, this chapter takes place back in the Gakuen Hetalia AU and picks up where Track 1 left off.

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**Song: Bad Romance Remix (Part 2)**

**Monster: Fame**

"_Bruder!!_ Open the door, dammit!"

Ludwig waited in the hallway of his and his brother's small house. The music _had not stopped._ It hadn't stopped since that first afternoon almost a week ago when Gilbert and his friends had come home from school, demanding snacks and itching to put some CD on. Ludwig could deal with the music, he really could, but this was getting ridiculous.

Eventually, the music turned off, giving Ludwig a moment of peace, and the bedroom door opened. Gilbert stood there, slightly sweaty and out of breath, his pale skin pink. "Yeah, West?" he asked impatiently. "What is it?"

Ludwig shut his eyes tightly and said, "Could you _please_ stop it with the music? Or at least put some headphones on?"

Gilbert immediately shook his head. "West, I already told you. Francis, Antonio, and I are going to be performing to this song for the school's talent show. We're late though! So I need to practice as much as possible in the time I have." He suddenly grinned and narrowed his eyes. "But I'm too awesome to have to practice that much. Trust me, if I weren't awesome, God forbid, I would be playing this CD that much more."

The younger German opened his eyes and groaned at the thought. "Look, it's not because I dislike the music, okay? It's way better than that heavy metal you're always playing. It's just that...that..."

"That what, West?"

"THAT IT'S GIVING FELICIANO IDEAS."

With that, Ludwig yanked his right arm towards the doorway so it was visible, and, sure enough, there was a little Italian clinging to it. Feliciano had somehow managed to become Ludwig's first friend when they had begun going to Hetalia Academy at the beginning of the school year. Thought Gilbert still couldn't figure out why. His little brother was an uptight, super serious, honors student, and Feliciano was a klutzy, pasta-loving, on-the-verge-of-flunking-out fool.

Weird indeed.

"Ve~ Ludwiiiiiig~" Feliciano whined, "don't tell your _fratello_ to turn the music off. I like it!"

"Feliciano..."

"Ve~ Ludwig, we should go and leave your _fratello_ alone. He needs to practice for the talent show." The little Italian snuggled up on Ludwig's arm, making the blonde twitch and the albino stifle a laugh. "Francis and Antonio are working hard, too, so we shouldn't distract Gilbert."

The albino burst out laughing. "You tell, 'em, Feli!"

"And...besides," Feliciano continued, his voice suddenly seductive, "if you need to yell at somebody, Ludwig, you can yell for me."

Ludwig's face turned bright red. "Excuse me?!"

"Let's have some fun; this beat is sick..." Feliciano whispered, his breath hot in Ludwig's ear as he slowly wrapped both arms around the tall German. "I wanna take a ride on your disco stick~"

Ludwig turned towards his brother, desperate for some help, but Gilbert just stared at his little brother and the perverted leech on his arm. This was too perfect. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, snapped a picture, and said, "He's all yours, Feli. West needs to get laid. Damn, I need to put this on my blog, pronto."

"YAAAAAY!!"

"_BRUDER!!_"

Gilbert watched in unrestrained amusement as the Italian dragged Ludwig down the hall towards his bedroom. "You'll thank me for it later, West!" he called as he closed his bedroom door. He walked back to his boom box and started the CD up again, playing it extra loudly so his brother and Feliciano could hear through the walls.

* * *

"Oh, no, _amigo_, you did _not!_"

"Kesesesesese~ Yes, I did."

The next day, during lunch hour, Gilbert sat with Antonio and Francis at one of the school's outdoor lunching tables. Gilbert's boom box was blasting what else but more Lady GaGa, the music filling the air with loud beats and dance rhythms. The albino smugly munched on a wurst as he took in the highly amused, almost stunned, looks on his friends' faces.

"_Mon Dieu_, do you think they did it?" Francis asked, temporarily forgetting about the escargot he had brought to school. His face was bright pink, and his eyes were bright with excitement. His grin widened when Gilbert nodded.

Antonio suddenly laughed. "You go, Feli!" cheered as he took a bite of a tortilla. "I knew little Feli had it in him!"

"And little Ludwig desperately needed it," the Frenchman added, laughing a bit.

Gilbert grinned and turned towards his boom box, which had finished playing The Fame Monster. The albino took the CD from the slot and inserted another one, The Fame. After he had listened to the first track on The Fame Monster, he listened to the rest of the songs, deciding he liked them all. After he finally gave the CD back to Feliks, he ran out to the nearest music store and bought his own copies of both GaGa's CDs.

As the music came on, Gilbert noticed that some students were starting to gather around his table. They all wanted to hear! "Gather 'round, Everybody!" he called. "Have a listen to all this awesome!"

Things were peacefully upbeat until a certain student joined the party. Then the atmosphere completely changed.

Ivan was an exchange student from Russia, and he was scary as hell. Tall, intimidating, sneaky, and always smiling, Gilbert didn't like him. The Russian always seemed to be mocking him in some way, and now he had the nerve to jump in on his listening.

But he didn't seem to be his usual self this time. No, there was something different about Ivan today. He wasn't that scary-looking, and he directly approached Gilbert instead of sneaking up on him. Weird.

"What do you want?" the German asked, taking a gulp from his soda can.

"Gilbert," Ivan began, sounding very honest, "could you please turn the music off?"

"What! Not you, too! You're just like West!"

"...Please?"

Francis stepped in. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "You seem nervous, Ivan. Are you feeling alright?"

"Turn it off," Ivan begged, a desperate look in his eyes. "Please, please, turn it off! Turn it off before it gets to Track 3!"

"Why Track 3?" Antonio asked, genuinely concerned. "Do you not like it?"

"No, I like this music, really," Ivan explained, shaking. "It's just...Track 3 is..."

"BROTHER."

At the scream, Ivan nearly jumped ten feet in the air. He shook like a leaf in a cold wind, not daring to turn around. Gilbert stared up at him, confused, and then looked beyond Ivan to see a very pretty girl standing at the end of the lunching area, a predatory grin on her face.

"Brother," she repeated, "Brother, you know I'll _always_ be your..."

"STOP IT!!" Ivan cried, tears running down his cheeks. "LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

That was when Track 3 started.

Oh.

"'Paparazzi'," Gilbert realized, smiling a bit. He knew that Ivan's little sister Natalia was crazy; everyone did. She had this strange obsession with her older brother. Some said it was because the two had lived apart for a while during their childhood. Ivan had grown up in Moscow away from his two sisters, the older one living in Kiev, Ukraine, and Natalia living in Minsk, Belarus. So when all three of them came to study at Hetalia Academy, they had been reunited, and Natalia hadn't left her brother alone since.

Gilbert turned up the volume on the boom box, smile wide. "He's all yours."

"I'LL BE YOUR PAPARAZZI."

"GO HOME!!"

Gilbert had never seen two people run so fast before.

For a moment, the students sitting around the table stayed silent, wondering what had just happened. Heracles, a student from Greece, murmured, "Ivan should come to my mother's place to be in the Olympics. Natalia, too." Everyone agreed.

"Well, well, well..."

The new voice made Gilbert's head shoot up. There was Feliks, standing there in all his Polish, cross-dressing, talking-like-a-valley-girl glory. The blonde had a smug look on his face as his eyes traveled towards the boom box. "I think you, like, totally owe me and GaGa an apology, Gilly," he giggled. "Say it. You totally love her music."

Francis and Antonio audibly gulped. Gilbert was going to snap; they knew it. The albino didn't like Feliks, and he hated admitting that he was wrong even more. They put the covers on their lunches and tried to usher the students away from the two staring each other down, but, surprisingly, the harsh comebacks never came. Slowly, they realized that Gilbert was smiling.

"I've made only two mistakes in my life," the German said. "One of them was almost rejecting Mattie that one time on April Fool's Day when he came to my door offering maple syrup. If I had turned him away, I would not today know the awesomeness that is maple."

Feliks and the others were quiet, all thinking the same thing. _"Who the hell is he talking about?"_

"And the second thing," Gilbert continued, "is saying that GaGa's music is trash." He looked up and smiled. "I'm sorry, Feliks, I should have listened to you."

Antonio and Francis were sure they could hear the sound of the apocalypse somewhere in the distance.

"And I want to make it up to you," Gilbert continued, taking a step closer to the stunned blonde. "I've got a very interesting offer for you." He took another step closer and whispered something into Feliks's ear, the Polish boy's eyes lighting up as he spoke. When he pulled away, Feliks was looking at him as if he were a savior.

"You're totally kidding," he gasped, falling to his knees.

Gilbert shook his head, grinning. "Nope, I'm not. What do you say?"

"Do you even, like, need to ask?"

* * *

A week later, the entire student population of Hetalia Academy gathered into the auditorium to watch the highly-anticipated talent show. No empty seats were left by the time everyone was settled, teachers included.

Eventually, a student walked out onto the stage, holding a microphone. "Attention!" came the student's strict, demanding voice. "It is exactly ten o'clock A.M. The talent show starts now! I am your host, Vash Zwingli. I will be keeping us on schedule throughout the show. It will end in exactly two hours, and then we will have a buffet lunch, provided by the school. Remember to take only what you can afford and can eat!"

"Vash!" came the whispered shout from backstage. One of the teachers urged the Swiss boy to move on, waving his hands around a bit.

Vash immediately got the message. "There will be no further interruptions! We begin NOW!!" He looked at his watch, eyes widening slightly. "For the sake of keeping to schedule, each act will be reduced by two seconds. BEGIN!! The first act: Sophomore Alfred F. Jones will open with his country's nation anthem!"

The audience clapped politely as Vash ran off the stage to grab the American and push him into the spotlight. A few muffled whispers could be heard, some people asking why in the world Vash was the host.

"It just doesn't seem too logical," Kiku, a Japanese exchange student commented. "Vash-san is not very fun-loving."

Lovino, a junior from Italy and Feliciano's brother, turned to Kiku and groaned. "He's being paid."

Oh. That explained a lot.

Kiku nodded. "And the Swiss certainly do love their money."

"And the rest of the world loves their banks."

Despite the rather unorthodox opening, the talent show was a lukewarm success. Alfred hadn't been as bad at singing as everyone originally though, and what he lacked in talent he made up for in enthusiasm. The acts that followed him were impressive as well, as many students performed traditions from their country. Hetalia Academy was famous for its international students, so it was a diverse, always-interesting place. Elizaveta, a junior from Hungary, performed a dance from her country. Berwald, a senior from Sweden, Tino, a sophomore from Finland, and their three friends from other parts of Scandinavia acted out a short skit about their viking heritage (which resulted in the senior from Denmark being chased off the stage by a very angry Norwegian junior). Heracles then told a series of myths his mother had told him when he was growing up in Athens. Sadiq, his rival from Turkey, almost interrupted him, but Vash was on him quickly, _daring_ him to mess up the show's schedule.

All and all, a cool talent show with a series of interesting performances from around the world.

"And now," Vash said as he kept an eye on his watch, "we have come to the final performance of the afternoon. When this is over, I expect everyone to form a neat, orderly line and get lunch in a timely fashion! Stepping outside the boundaries will not be tolerated!" He coughed when he heard the teacher from earlier yell at him again from backstage, and he introduced the final act. "Our finale is another group performance. This time, we have three seniors and a very special guest performing a modern pop song." Vash's voice became quiet as he realized what he was saying. After all those international-themed performances, this was a little odd. "Um...Yes! Please welcome seniors Gilbert Beilschmidt, Francis Bonnefoy, and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, with special guest, junior Feliks Łukasiewicz! They will be performing...oh..."

Vash looked down at the memo in his hands and read the line over in his head. He turned back to the teacher, who nodded, looking just as confused as he was. Shrugging, Vash turned back to the audience and, very cautiously, said, "...Lady GaGa'a 'Bad Romance'."

The audience clapped slowly, a little unsure of what the Swiss boy had just said, and waited for the group to come on stage. Vash walked backstage and glanced around at the crew members working there, all sharing the same confused expression.

And then, the auditorium went black. Some students cried out in surprise, wondering what was going on, but a voice stopped them from thinking too much.

"Vash forgot one thing about us," came Gilbert's voice. "Yes, we are three seniors here at Hetalia Academy, but we're much more. WE'RE HETALIA ACADEMY'S BAD TOUCH TRIO!!"

The lights suddenly came back on, and the stage lighting started to go crazy. Blues, pinks, greens, and yellows lit up the stage, darting back and forth across the floor. Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio stood in three separate parts of the stage, each holding his own pose. When the music began, they started to dance, Antonio strutting to the center of the stage to sing first.

_"I want your ugly; I want your disease. I want your everything as long as it's free. I want your love, love, love, love, I want your love."_

After a moment of confusion, the audience started to get into the music. Antonio was a pretty good singer, and many of the female students gushed over his dance moves. They figured that his passionate, Spanish background full of music and dance had trained his hips to move well with any beat.

Once the first verse and chorus were done, the trio shifted so that Gilbert was standing in the center.

_"I want your psycho, your vertigo shtick. Want you in my rear window, baby, you're sick. I want your love, love, love, love, I want your love."_

This was the real shock. "I didn't know _Bruder_ was that good at singing," Ludwig murmured as he watched the albino dance to the second verse and chorus. He shifted a bit so Feliciano's grip on his arm wasn't so painful and smiled. "I'm speechless."

Gilbert led the second chorus until the song came to a different beat. The Bad Touch Trio walked towards the back of the stage, and the lights went down again. When they came back up after a few moments, there were two new faces with them.

Gilbert smirked. "Do it, Feliks."

_"Walk, walk, fashion, baby, work it, move that bitch c-razy. Walk, walk, fashion, baby, work it, move that bitch c-razy. Walk, walk, fashion, baby, work it, move that bitch c-razy. Walk, walk, passion, baby, work it, I'm a free bitch baby."_

It hit the students like a ton of bricks. That segment of the song was _perfect_ for Feliks. How he had managed to get Toris to do it with him, however, was an entirely different story. The poor Lithuanian boy marched off the stage, humiliated, and turned to his Polish friend. "You're a monster."

"And a free bitch, baby."

When the two of them came off the stage, the last member of the Bad Touch Trio took the spotlight, speaking in his native tongue.

_"Je veux ton amour, et je veux ta revenge. Je veux ton amour, I don't wanna be friends!"_

All three turned to the audience.

_"WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE!!"_

The trio quickly finished the song after that, posing at the final notes. After a second of silence, the entire audience burst into applause, cheering the three seniors and their guest dancers on.

Gilbert grinned and broke his pose. "THANK YOU, LITTLE MONSTERS!!"

* * *

The entire school population sat in the lunching area outside, eating the food supplied for them after the show finished. Gilbert proudly accepted all the praise he and his friends received for their performance, as they had won first prize.

"I thought some of the other performances were very good, too," Francis commented. "Elizaveta's dance was nice."

"Bah," Gilbert scoffed, stuffing his mouth full of potato chips, "it looked like she had learned to dance in the dark. It was awful! And that guy from Denmark was way too happy when he was being chased off the stage."

"I was sure that Sadiq was going to interrupt Heracles at some point," Antonio sighed. "It's a good thing he didn't though. I hear that he was planning to call him in the middle of the show, but I think Kiku had his phone."

"Yeah, he did, stupid," Lovino spat as he sat down next to the Spaniard with his lunch. "Shut it, Antonio-bastard." The Italian glanced back towards the buffet table and groaned. Alfred was shoving hamburgers down his throat, his teeth full of meat and ketchup. "So gross..."

"By the way," Francis started again, "I keep getting the feeling we're missing someone."

"Huh?" Gilbert asked back. "What are you talking about? We went through all the performances, didn't we?"

Back in the auditorium, a young freshman stood on the stage, his cheeks pink and eyes glossy. "I was supposed to perform, too...Oh, maple."

* * *

That night, Gilbert sat in his room with his headphones on, deciding to give his little brother a break from the music. He slid his Fame Monster CD into the boom box and pressed the play button, waiting for the song to come on. When it did, he closed his eyes, smiled, and leaned back against his pillow.

"What an awesome day." Reaching over to his nightstand, his picked up the CD and flipped through the booklet, taking in the photography and the lyrics. He smiled softly. "Thanks for everything, GaGa. You've won yourself another Little Monster."

Quietly, he began to sing.

_"Rah-rah, ah, ah, ah, roma, roma-ma, ga-ga, oh, la, la...want your bad romance..."_

END

Author's Note: It's not over yet! Stick with me for a special bonus track!


	10. Bonus: CD Booklet

**Author's Note:** Here's the super special secret bonus track! 8D Okay, so it's not exactly a secret track since I don't have a song or a monster in mind for this. It was just a silly idea I came up with while writing the other tracks. The content of this chapter will be this short side story within the "Bad Romance" timeline (so we're back in Gakuen Hetalia, but this takes place before Track 9) and a (somewhat) separate section devoted to final notes and explanations (because I know some of you still have some questions about each track). I'll be sure to point out when the separate section within the story starts so you can read that or skip over it if you want. I hope you enjoy this last story for "The Hetalian Monster."

**Title: The Hetalian Monster**

**CD Booklet**

Gilbert sat in front of his laptop in his bedroom, the whole room dark except for the bright screen before him. He grinned as he watched the finale to the "Bad Romance" music video on YouTube. "Kesesesese," he laughed, "the guy gets burned at the end. Kesesese~"

Ever since he had first listened to Feliks's copy of The Fame Monster, he hadn't been able to get the songs out of his head. They were just too damn catchy! But in a good way. Gilbert would never listen to crap music just because it was catchy.

But he and his friends had loved that first song so much that they had decided to perform it for Hetalia Academy's talent show. "It'll be awesomely original!" Gilbert had explained. "Most of the kids are probably going to perform stuff from their home countries, right? That's why we should do something unexpected! It'll be awesome!"

Francis and Antonio agreed enthusiastically, and the three friends, now called the Bad Touch Trio, were figuring out how they would perform their new favorite song. Gilbert had found the music video for "Bad Romance" not too long after, and the three of them decided to take a few of the dance moves from the video.

"I wonder if we should make some weird costumes, too," Gilbert thought aloud. "Surely I gotta know someone who likes to sew."

Scrolling through the comments section for the YouTube video, Gilbert read what the other viewers had to say, rolling his eyes at the haters. "You guys just don't get it," he sighed. He paused shortly and continued, "But...neither did I." Sighing again, he continued until he came upon a very interesting comment indeed.

Gilbert's silver eyebrows rose in shock. "What?!" he asked no one. "What the hell?! No way!!"

Slamming his laptop screen down, Gilbert put on his sneakers and rushed out of the house, ignoring his brother's demands for him to stop. He ran down the neighborhood street as fast as he could and then made a turn down another street. He continued like this for a while until he came upon a different neighborhood on the other side of town.

Gilbert ran up to one of the houses and knocked wildly on the door. He gasped for air and waited until someone opened the door.

"Gilbert, eh?" came a soft voice. "What are you doing here? Do you need some maple syrup?"

"MATTIE!!" the albino gasped loudly, catching the little Canadian off-guard. "Is it true that you're dating Lady GaGa?!"

"Eh?!" Matthew cried, taking a few steps back. He stared at the German, big, purple eyes confused and slightly stunned. "Where did you hear that?" He held onto the door cautiously, as if Gilbert could attack him at any moment.

The boy before him started flailing. "I read about it online! Someone posted it as a comment on YouTube! The comment said that GaGa is dating Matthew Williams right now. That's you, Mattie! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Matthew stared at the albino. He couldn't be serious. He knew that Gilbert was a little dense and often jumped to conclusions (the situation usually turning out a certain way because he was awesome), but this was just ridiculous.

The Canadian shook his head. "I'm not dating Lady GaGa, Gilbert," he said firmly, though his soft, sweet voice didn't make him sound too intimidating or certain about his words. "I'm not the only person in the world named Matthew Williams. Back in my country, it's a pretty common name. It's pretty common in my brother's country, too. We're just far away from North America right now, so you don't hear those kinds of names too often around here."

Gilbert looked positively crushed. "You're not dating her?" he repeated. He frowned when Matthew shook his head again. "Dammit, Mattie, it would be so awesome if you were!"

"I didn't know you were a fan," the little Canadian replied, changing the subject. "I do listen to her music, but that's about it. I'm sorry." He smiled a little bit. "Alfred and I are trying to get tickets to her concert though. If we can get some, I'll try to buy a third ticket for you."

Gilbert's red eyes lit up. "Really?!" he nearly squealed. "Thank you, Mattie! You're awesome!" He gripped his friend in a manly hug and grinned. "While I'm here, by the way, can I have some maple syrup? I'm all out anyway."

Matthew giggled. "Yeah, stay here. I'll be right back."

After a moment, Matthew returned to the front door with a fresh bottle of maple syrup. "Here you go! Fresh from Canada, eh?" He smiled at the albino's excitement and said his goodbyes and goodnights, closing the door.

When things were finally peaceful, Matthew walked up the stairs to his room and shut the door, thankful that his American brother Alfred hadn't woken up with all the excitement. Who came to someone's house screaming about dating a celebrity at eleven o'clock at night anyway? Whatever. It _was_ Gilbert who had done it, so Matthew figured he could forgive it.

But now he was in the mood to listen to GaGa. Smiling a bit, he pulled his iPod from his drawer and set the two albums on shuffle, smiling even wider when his favorite song of all came on first. As he listened, he pulled the two CDs from the same drawer and opened them to read along with the CD booklets.

(Separate notes begin here.)

Track 1: Poland performs "Bad Romance"

In my headcanon, Poland is a rabid Lady GaGa fangirl. XD It's the fashion, seriously. But that was the idea that got this whole series going. I love GaGa and Hetalia, so I figured that, if I put them together, I'd get something even better! Anyone who knows me on DA knows that I love to bring two completely different things together to get epic crossovers, so this is just another one I added to the list. So thanks a lot, Poland. Your adorable, cross-dressing ways inspired me to get this started.

Track 2: Romano performs "Alejandro"

This was the hardest one for me to write. I totally support SpainxRomano, and I (obviously) like "Alejandro," but this was probably one of the biggest challenges I've faced so far in writing a fanfic. First of all, I don't really like Romano as a character, and Spain has gotten so little screentime in the series that he's hard for me to picture in situations outside the ones I've seen him in. That's why I think this one-shot is too much like Himaruya's original strips about the Spain/Romano relationship. Ugh, I was beating myself up the entire time I was writing it because I thought it was unoriginal. :( It was also one of the songs on the album that I couldn't really understand until I looked up what GaGa said was the meaning behind it was. Once I understood it, it was kinda fun to write about Spain spoiling little Romano rotten, because he totally would.

Track 3: Lithuania performs "Monster"

Track 3 went through so many changes before I finally decided to focus on Lithuania as the main "performer." Originally, I was going to write a one-shot about the Baltic Trio and their relationship with Russia. I got the meaning behind "Monster" right away, so I though it would be a perfect song for the trio to express the way they feel being bullied by Russia. However, when I started writing the fic, I discovered that trying to write about all three countries would be difficult. Himaruya constantly makes the joke that they're different for a reason! They really are different in food, language, and culture, so trying to write about them all as if they're one unit is, in my opinion, something of an insult. (I also watch way too much "Amazing Race," so I've seen all three countries, and, trust me, they're nothing alike.) Therefore, I decided to focus on just one of them. I still wanted relationships to be the monster for this track though, so I did a little research on all three countries and decided that, because of his early relationship with Poland, Lithuania would be the best choice. Once I figured that out, though, things still weren't so easy. Research can be kinda long and tedious for these kinds of fics, but at least I can say I have an abridged, basic understanding of Lithuanian history! By the way, Poland and Lithuania made up. They're friends now.

Track 4: Germany performs "Speechless"

I have wanted to write something about the dissolution of Prussia and the separation of the German Brothers since I first got into Hetalia. The dissolution of Prussia is especially fascinating to me, partially because it's the same day as my birthday! Yes, it's in a complete different year, but, still, my birthday is February 25th, the anniversary of the dissolution of Prussia. (You can imagine how slightly traumatized I was when I realized that the most awesome character in Hetalia "died" on my birthday!) "Speechless" gave me a perfect excuse to write out a story. If I didn't write out an entire series for The Fame Monster, I still would have definitely written this one-shot. I think it's one of GaGa's most beautiful songs, and it's so different from the kind of stuff she usually does, so I felt it important to showcase it a bit. I'm sorry if I made anyone cry, but it's a pretty depressing song, and the subject of this one-shot is a pretty depressing time in history (at least for Hetalia fans). In case you're wondering, Germany did not speak a word after Russia took Prussia away, not until the Wall came down in 1989. When Germany saw his older brother again, he spoke his first words in forty-two years: _"Ich liebe dich."_

Track 5: Hungary performs "Dance in the Dark"

Like I said at the end of the track, this originally started out as something of a Fight Club for the women of Hetalia. I'd still really like to write that. XD But I wanted to do something for the girls more than anything else with this song, especially once I discovered the meaning. Women of War often go unrecognized because they're not fighting out on the front lines, so I thought it very important to give the girls a chapter. I also got really excited when I heard about the introduction of Monaco into the series, and she gave me a perfect reason to give this one-shot its ending! On another note, I had in mind that this fic would be something of a sequel to "Boys, Boys, Boys" from The Fame, as if the girls would sing that during the say and "Dance in the Dark" at night.

Track 6: Japan (featuring Greece) performs "Telephone"

Okay, show of hands. Who couldn't get the music video out of his/her head while reading this? I know I couldn't, and I was laughing so hard the entire time I was writing. XD But, after several depressing chapters and a few dramedies, I wanted to write something outrageous. I seriously cannot believe that I've never seen Visual Kei!Japan before! What the hell?! Japan is famous not only for his good manners, long history, slightly clueless personality but also for his pop culture! Sure, Japan has a few otaku moments in the series, but I thought it would be fun to explore his punky fashion side. It was also an excuse for some GreecexJapan with the most OOC Greece you'll ever see. XD I also put a few hidden tributes to the music video into the one-shot. Yes, Turkey is supposed to play the man in the diner. And the reason America was the one constantly calling Japan? Well, tell me what flags GaGa and Beyonce were wearing during the diner scene. :) Japan leaving the club with Greece looking for him was a jab at the ending of the video, when GaGa and Beyonce make their escape. As for an epilogue to this fic, yes, Greece figured it out. He and Japan now go to clubs and concerts together, and it's their little secret. After all, "once you kill a tuna, you gotta make some sushi." (Thank you for the quote, Haruki!!)

Track 7: Denmark performs "So Happy I Could Die"

One word: NORDICS. Holy crap, I love the Nordics so much, and I wanted to give them a chapter so damn badly. Denmark seemed like the best one to go with, especially for the reasons I gave at the end of the one-shot. Plus, I hadn't really written a one-shot with a romantic tone to it, and I love Hetalia couples so much. I really like DenmarkxNorway, so I decided to go with them to find a reason for Denmark to be at that club in downtown Copenhagen with a bottle of red wine. And I was so excited to write this one because it gave me an excuse to bring Netherlands into the story! I love him so much even though we know so little about him. Plus, Denmark, Netherlands, and England are, to me, the Sad Drunk Trio. XDDD (On another note, I think that Denmark, Italy, and America make up the Don't-Know-How-to-Read-the-Atmosphere Trio.) So I wanted to bring the three of them together no matter what! And now for the epilogue: No, Denmark did not die, but he needed to be hospitalized for a few days. Norway visited him every single day and, when the Dane made a full recovery, gave his version of a confession, which wasn't much more than blushing cheeks and a giggling fairy. Denmark picked that exact moment to read the atmosphere and immediately got the message. They're together.

Track 8: America performs "Teeth"

America is my country, and I know it's not perfect. I do think that we have an interesting, involved history though, for being such a young country. I think what I wanted to show with this one-shot the most was that America always has good intentions for his actions. Really, America wants to save everyone not because he wants to be the hero, but because he legitimately wants to help. Of course, things don't always go just as planned. I live really close to New York City, too, so the two ending scenes hit home for me. I tried my best not to involve politics into this fic, because I don't want to take sides or start any controversy. All I can say is that I hope that America figures himself out soon. I'll be with him every step of the way.

Track 9: The Bad Touch Trio performs "Bad Romance (Remix)"

The opening scene with the perverted Italy was my favorite part. XD I think that this track is pretty self-explanatory though. The idea of the trio performing this song came to me when I remembered that GaGa speaks French towards the end, and things went from there. I'm glad that people noticed the other song titles I managed to slip into this fic. I wanted to make it seem like the canon story for Tracks 2 through 8 and the AU for Tracks 1 and 9 were right next to each other. After all, they're all the same characters! And, to make up for everyone forgetting Canada, this bonus track is his.

To all my Little Monsters, thank you.

(End of separate section.)

Matthew read along the lines and smiled. No, he was not dating Lady GaGa, but he still loved the music anyway. The CD booklet, with all its lyrics, information, photography, and thank yous, was like the maple syrup on the pancakes. He reached the end of the booklet just as his favorite song ended.

"So I guess there's nothing else I can say, eh, eh?"

END


	11. DELUXE: Track 1: Just Dance

**Author's Note:** Did you miss me? XD Well, I'm back and writing out more one-shots for Hetalia and GaGa. _The Hetalian Monster_ was so successful that I decided to release the deluxe edition, which will now include the original sixteen tracks from "The Fame." These one-shots will be very similar to the ones for _Monster_, but some of them will connect to those original nine tracks. Some of these (such as this first track) will be prequels, and others will be sequels (along with a few side stories), but the rest will be independent stories. So I hope you enjoy these next tracks for _The Hetalian Fame._

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Just Dance**

"Sealand, eat your veggies."

"But, Mama..."

"Don't call me that. Eat."

Finland nodded sternly and turned back to the sink, washing off the dishes from that night's dinner. Behind him, still at the table, Sealand made a face and groaned as his fork stabbed through another leafy green. Secretly, Finland smirked as he set another plate on the drying rack.

"Papa!" Sealand suddenly whined as Sweden entered the kitchen. "Mama's making me eat these yucky vegetables." He dropped one of the greens onto the floor for Hanatamago, but the little dog ignored it. Sealand frowned and looked up at his father.

Sweden barely even looked at his son. "L'st'n t' yer m'ma," he mumbled as he walked to the sink. He took one of the dirty glasses and wiped it down.

"Oh, thank you, Su-san," Finland replied, smiling. "By the way, do you have any work to do tonight?" Sweden shook his head silently, allowing Finland to continue. "Good then. I have someplace to go tonight, and I want you to come."

"What about me?" Sealand protested, slamming his fork down on the table. Hanatamago barked at the sudden noise and ran to the door, thinking someone was knocking.

Finland turned and frowned. "You won't get to go anywhere if you don't finish your dinner. And besides, this is something for grown-ups. Su-san and I will take you into town this weekend. Hanatamago, stop barking!"

"Mama!"

"Don't call me that!"

Sweden put the clean glass onto the drying rack and walked to the door, shushing the little dog. One she was quiet, he turned back to the kitchen and stared down at his son. "E't 'r n' d'ssert," he said. Sealand whined again and put another veggie in his mouth.

Finland smiled. "There's a good boy. Once you finish, you can have a little slice of last night's cake."

Sealand nodded glumly and stayed silent for a few moments, only his chewing audible. But then he spoke up again. "So where are you going with Papa, Mama?"

"I already told you. It's a place just for grown-ups."

"But I'm the mighty Empire of Sealand!"

"But you're a _growing_ empire, and little empires need their sleep."

"C'll s'me'ne," Sweden murmured, walking to the phone in the next room. He picked it up and started dialing numbers he knew by heart.

"Thank you, Su-san. For around nine, okay?"

"Mama, look!" Sealand pointed to his plate, which was bare of vegetables. Finland smiled and took his plate, praising him for obeying. After a minute, he returned with another plate and a slice of chocolate cake.

All the while, he was thinking. _I've been waiting for this all month. This is going to be the best concert of the year, I know it! And Su-san will have a fantastic time, too. Maybe I can make him dance this time. And I wonder if the others will want to come._

His husband interrupted his thoughts. "D'nm'rk is c'm'ng," he announced. "'th'rs 'ren't. N'r 'nd 'ce w'll w'tch Se'l'nd."

"Uncle Nor and Uncle Ice?" the little nation asked as he finished his dessert. Sweden nodded.

"I'm glad they agreed," Finland said as he took his son's dessert plate and finished the dishes. "I hope that Denmark has a good time."

* * *

That night, at exactly nine o'clock, Norway and Iceland arrived at Sweden's house, complete with a fairy and Puffin. "G'od 'v'ning," the tall Nordic greeted. "C'me in."

"Thank you," Iceland replied. "Good evening to you, too. Where's Sealand?"

"Here I am!" the little boy called, running towards the front door. He grabbed Iceland's hand and bounced up and down. "Can I play with Puffin? And can Hanatamago play, too?" He squealed when Iceland nodded and ran back to the living room.

Sweden turned to the other Nordic. "Y'u're awf'lly qu'et, N'r," he said.

Norway rolled his eyes. "Denmark is harassing me again. That annoying idiot keeps asking me to hang out with him. I can barely put up with him during the day, so I don't need to deal with him at night, too."

At that moment, Finland came downstairs, dressed casually. "I'm sure that Denmark doesn't mean any harm by it. He probably just wants to spend some time with you, Norway. You've been at Iceland's a lot lately, so we don't get to see you that often."

Norway shook his head. "I still don't want to have to deal with him. He's so annoying." He opened up the palm of his hand to let a fairy rest. "I swear, if he calls me one more time, I'm going to move to Iceland's place. I don't care what happens to him by this point."

Finland frowned. "That's not nice."

"He's the annoying one. By now, I don't care if he drinks himself to death."

"Norway!"

Sweden put a large hand on his wife's shoulder. "H' d'esn't me'n 't," he explained. "S'okay, F'n. L't's g'."

* * *

"Did you bring the stuff?"

"It's right here!"

"Fantastic. Let me at it."

Denmark opened the large bag in his hands, and Finland dove into the contents like a hungry dog craving his kibble. Sweden watched on silently, his expression blank. If Denmark and Finland were paying any attention, they would notice the strange, tense skin at the corner of his mouth and the tugging on his eyebrows.

The three of them were standing in a full parking lot next to a large arena, lights and screams of excitement emitting from the inside. Denmark, with his large bag and huge grin, looked like a drug dealer, and Finland, with his gleeful smile and almost flailing arms, was his customer. And that was exactly why Sweden was not amused.

But Denmark was not a drug dealer, and Finland was not a buyer of said drugs. No, the bag was not full of questionable items. Instead, it contained piles of wigs, party clothes, and make-up, appropriate for a Finnish rock concert.

Sweden closed his eyes and groaned. He loved his wife. Seriously, he did. He loved Finland with all of his heart, but there were moments when he questioned his wife's taste in entertainment. The last time Finland had dragged him to a concert, he had walked out covered in fake blood and real vomit, and he had no plans to repeat that event. Denmark had laughed at him for an entire week, Iceland had gathered Puffin's entire family together to witness the spectacle, and he had even been able to see great amusement in Norway's normally emotionless eyes. In short, he was not looking forward to the night, even less because Denmark had agreed to come along.

But one thing was stopping him from going home right then and there.

"Su-san! I've got some clothes here that'll fit you!"

Damn.

* * *

The show had not even gone on for ten minutes, and Finland was, to put it simply, wasted. The alcohol had been free and available to everyone in the audience, so the little Fin was gone with just a few drinks. Surprisingly, he still seemed rather coordinated, because he was still dancing and cheering with the music, however chaotic and dark it sounded. Denmark was partying it up, as he could definitely hold his liquor. Sweden was starting to agree with Norway about what could happen to the Dane without anyone caring.

But he couldn't think those thoughts for too long. "Su-san!" Finland squealed, jumping up to his husband. "Come on! Have some fun! Let loose!"

"F'n..."

"Need a drink? Huuuuuuh?" Finland grabbed a shot off a nearby tray and shoved it in Sweden's face. "Come on, you'll feel betterrrrr! Just dance already!"

A bit reluctantly, Sweden took the drink from his wife and gulped it down. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, but he had to admit that he did feel better with it. He blinked a few times, cleaned off his glasses, and looked down at Finland, a brow quirking. "F'n? Wh'n d'd ya t'rn yer sh'rt 'ns'de o't?"

"Huh?" Finland looked down and saw that his black t-shirt was indeed torn up and inside out. He looked back up with a smile. "I don't know. It just happened!"

"D' ya h've m' ph'ne?"

"Uh..."

"...Th' k'ys?"

"..."

"Forget it."

"You worry too much!" Denmark suddenly laughed, slugging his arm around Sweden's shoulders. "Lighten up! Your precious, little wife was kind enough to bring you out here. You may as well have fun!"

Sweden rolled his eyes, muttering about how someone needed to drive home that night, but Finland quickly stole his attention again. The small blonde had somehow gotten a hold of a permanent, blue marker and was drawing a lightning bolt on his face. That was when Sweden decided that Finland had had too much.

But when he tried to convince him so, Finland attempted to assure him that, as he so eloquently put it, "Everything will be okay! Just dance!"

It continued throughout the night.

* * *

When Finland woke up, he was in Sweden's house, in Sweden's bed, but the large Nordic was nowhere in sight. Sitting up and groaning, he rubbed his head, which was throbbing like crazy. "Ugh...what happened last night?" he asked, his voice low and strained. This had to be the worst hangover he had ever had.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Finland could remember going to the rock concert and having a good time with Sweden and Denmark. Iceland and Norway had come over to watch Sealand, so at least his son had been looked after for the night. Okay, that was good. But what else had happened?

"I had way too much last night..." Finland swung his legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand, but his balance was a bit wobbly. Once he had composed himself, walked out of the room and gripped the handrail tightly, so he could make it down the stairs without tripping.

As he walked, the memories starting coming back to him. Sweden had had enough of the concert after witnessing Finland dance rather provocatively next to Denmark. He hadn't even known that his wife was capable of such dance moves! Despite the Dane's protests, Sweden dragged Finland out to the car and set him down in the back seat. By that point, Finland was passed out cold, unable to resist Sweden's warm hands and strong arms. Denmark had decided to stay at the concert, shouting something about asking Norway to go out with him sometime.

"I w''ldn't d' th't," Sweden had suggested, remembering what the Norwegian had said about the Dane, but the Nordic didn't listen. Sweden just hoped he wouldn't have to slug Denmark into the back of his car passed out, or worse...dead, anytime soon.

Finland nodded to himself as he made it to the bottom of the stairs, thankful he hadn't fallen. He looked at the front door next to the bottom of the stairs and read the note his husband had stuck there.

"Went to the grocery and drug stores. Be back soon. -Berwald"

Finland smiled. "Su-san is so kind..." He walked past the front door to the kitchen, where Sealand sat at the table feeding leftover vegetables to Hanatamago, who proceeded to ignore them.

"Mama?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Why do you have a blue lightning bolt on your face?"

_What's goin' on on the floor?_

_I love this record, Baby, but I can't see straight anymore._

_Keep it cool. What's the name of this club?_

_I can't remember but it's alright, I'm alright._

_Just dance! Gonna be okay. Da, da, doot, doot-n._

_Just dance! Spin that record, Babe! Da, da, doot-n._

_Just dance! Gonna be okay._

_D-d-d-dance, dance, dance just j-j-j-just dance!_

END


	12. DELUXE: Track 2: LoveGame

**Author's Note:** This one-shot takes place back in Gakuen Hetalia (which means we're back to human names), one year after the "Bad Romance (Remix)" track.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: LoveGame**

"Things are so boring here ever since Gilbo graduated."

Im Yong-Soo of South Korea slumped over his desk and groaned. Sitting in the middle of a silent study hall, he banged his head against the wooden desk, gaining the attention of the other students around him, including his friends from other parts of Asia.

"You weren't even friends with Gilbert until after last year's talent show," the girl from Taiwan sighed, going back to her chemistry book. "And that was just because he and his friends performed that pop song."

"Lady GaGa is Korean, da ze!" Yong-soo defended, slamming his palms down on the desk and standing. "That was where her music originated. Everyone knows that!"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Don't even start on that, okay? Once you start talking about where things originated, you never shut up. Just keep quiet. We're still in the middle of study hall."

"I can't stay quiet! Things are too boring around here! I gotta make things more exciting."

"You can start by studying for your algebra class."

"No way! Math is boring, da ze!"

The American boy on the other side of the room nodded and shut his own textbook. "No shit."

"See? Alfred agrees with me!"

"Everything Alfred says means absolutely nothing," the boy behind the American interjected. "Don't listen to him. He won't ever shut up either."

Alfred turned around to the other blond boy. "Come on, Artie, don't be like that."

Yong-soo ignored them. Alfred and Arthur were always at it. Arthur, being very traditional and true to history, did not like the fact that Alfred was always bragging about his country guaranteed freedom to all its citizens. He especially did not like the fact that the United States of America, Alfred's home country, was once a colony of England, where Arthur was from, so the two were always bumping heads. But Yong-Soo, like so many other students at Hetalia Academy, knew that, deep down, Arthur actually cared very much for Alfred, though he would never admit it, and he would pull a black magic spell on anyone who did.

Despite their quarrel and the debates going back and forth, Yong-Soo was still set on his idea of Hetalia Academy being boring ever since Gilbert had graduated. In fact, it wasn't just Gilbert; so many other awesome students from so many different countries had graduated. Gilbert's friends Francis and Antonio were gone, too, and they had left nothing behind but their friends, siblings, and a legendary talent show performance. Berwald had gone back to Sweden when his family had found him a job designing furniture for IKEA. His friend from Denmark had returned to his home country, too, as business was booming there despite the iffy world economy. Ivan's older sister had gone back to Ukraine when she had heard that the family farm needed attention. Heracles's rival Sadiq had also graduated and gone back to Turkey, so Hetalia Academy's halls were void of angry Greek and Turkish fighting. Even Yao, Yong-Soo's older brother figure, had graduated and returned to China, so he barely even had someone to talk to, as Yao was really one of the only people who listened to him.

In short, it was too quiet.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of study hall.

And, in that moment, Yong-Soo decided something.

Hetalia Academy needed some excitement.

* * *

The last bell of the day couldn't ring soon enough. Yong-Soo sat in world history, his last class of the day, and stared at the clock above the teacher's desk, desperately watching the seconds tick by agonizingly slowly. On any other day, he would probably be listening, seeing as he actually loved his world history class. It meant more opportunities to declare that the world's greatest inventions had originated in Korea! But today, he had no interest in the teacher's lesson. He had work to do!

"Yong-Soo? Yong-Soo...?"

"Come on, come on..."

"Yong-Soo!"

"Wha-?"

At that moment, the final bell rang, and Yong-Soo jumped for joy. "IT'S OVER!" he squealed as he ran out of the classroom, leaving the other students in awe.

Heracles blinked sleepily. "I haven't seen someone...run so fast...since Natalia chased Ivan at lunch...that one time last year." A long, drawn-out pause left the room silent until the Greek senior spoke up again. "Yeah...Yong-Soo should come to my mother's place...for the Olympics, too."

The rest of the class agreed.

But Yong-Soo had no time to think about the Olympics. He had a plan, and he needed to get started on it now! He ran out to the front courtyard of the academy and saw that several other students had beaten him outside, already on their ways home. A minor setback. He just had to work quicker.

After a moment of scanning the crowd, Yong-Soo's eyes fell upon Kiku, the quiet, extremely polite senior from Japan. Kiku had been something of a friend of Yao's when he had still been at school, so Yong-Soo knew him rather well. Kiku hardly ever spoke unless he had to though, so the Korean always thought he was boring. He was a perfect place to start!

Slowly and carefully, Yong-Soo snuck up behind Kiku, who was busy looking at his digital day planner. He walked along quietly, not expecting a sneak attack from a rather loud and impatient Korean.

So when Yong-Soo reached out for him, Kiku was in for the shock, not to mention the squeeze, of his life.

"I CLAIM THESE IN THE NAME OF SOUTH KOREA!"

Kiku screamed at the top of his lungs in surprise and nearly had a heart attack, the poor thing. After a moment, he panted several deep breaths and looked down, only to see Yong-Soo's hands clutched onto his chest. Blushing a fierce red, Kiku turned his head and gasped, "Excuse me, may I HELP you?"

Yong-Soo just grinned. "I claim your breasts!" he squealed. "I'm turning it into a game. Whoever claims the most breasts here at Hetalia Academy is the winner!"

"Winner of WHAT?"

"...Love? Fame? I dunno." I boy's grin widened. "All I know is that it's fun! So you should have fun, too. Let's all have some fun!"

Kiku shook his head violently, his cheeks still stained bright red. "No, thank you, I'd rather not! Please, release my breasts!" He squirmed away, trying to escape Yong-Soo's grip, but the fingers around his chest just tightened.

At that moment, Kiku's two best friends, Ludwig and Feliciano, walked by. The German and Italian stopped for a moment when they saw the scene before them. If it was possible, Kiku's blush became darker.

"Ve, what are you doing, Kiku?" Feliciano asked, tilting his head a bit.

Kiku babbled incoherently before answering properly. "I am not doing ANYTHING!" he insisted. "I...I was just minding my own business when Yong-Soo ATTACKED me!"

"Aw, don't be like that," the Korean sighed. "Come on, Kiku, I'm just claiming your breasts. I didn't attack you! Actually, the fact that I did this means I would never attack you. Your breasts are too nice!"

"Oh yes, that is SO REASSURING!"

"Ve~! I looks like fun!"

Without a warning, Feliciano scampered behind Ludwig and thrust his hands forward, grabbing onto the German's chest. Ludwig let out what was probably the least manliest noise in the history of surprised noises, and his cheeks' color instantly turned darker than his brother's blood red eyes. For a moment, he was completely frozen in shock, but the reality quickly set in.

"FELICIANO!" he shouted, regaining his deep, manly voice. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Claiming your breasts in the name of North Italy!"

Yong-Soo giggled. "I have an ally!"

Ludwig tried to grab at Feliciano, but the little Italian was too fast, constantly moving about in order to escape the German's large hands and muscled arms. Feliciano even had the guts to laugh and sing out, "I wanna take a ride on your disco stick!" the entire time, only causing Ludwig to blush even more intensely.

And none of them ever forgot that they were in public.

FLASH!

The four boys stopped in their groping for a moment and looked in the direction of the flash, only to see Elizaveta, a senior from Hungary, holding her camera phone. Her smile was huge, and her cheeks were pink with excitement. "Oh, please, don't mind me," she said gleefully. "I'm just collecting some new materials." She looked over at Ludwig, and her smile softened a bit. "If only your brother could see you now..."

Ludwig's eyes grew in horror. "You...wouldn't...dare..."

"Bye!"

"STOP, YOU CRAZY WOMAN!"

Kiku kept his wide eyes on Elizaveta as she ran off. "Does she draw _doujinshi_? Holy cherry blossoms..."

And then, all hell broke loose.

"BROTHER. YOU MAY HAVE MY BREASTS WHENEVER YOU WANT THEM."

"GO HOOOOOOOOME!"

"Alfred, what are you DOING, you git?"

"I heard there was a competition! As an American, it's my job to win it!"

"...RODERICH!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!"

The rest of the student body population wondered if it was okay for Vash to have a gun and chase the Austrian with it across campus.

In the midst of all the chaos, Yong-Soo caught sight of Elizaveta frantically smashing the buttons on her phone's keypad. He smiled to himself. Success! This was definitely more exciting than his boring study hall, AND he had gotten to grope Kiku! And, if he planned everything right, this would be one event Hetalia Academy would never forget! _Maybe I can even get Principal Himaruya in on it_, he thought. There was no way this day could get any better.

But that would be a different story if Yong-Soo were the one on the end of Elizaveta's phone. Specifically, it would be if he were a college student currently studying in Paris, France, Berlin, Germany, or Madrid, Spain.

* * *

"_MON DIEU._"

"West...I had no idea..."

"I guess it's safe to say that the legacy of the Bad Touch Trio is alive and well?"

_Hold me and love me._

_Just wanna touch you for a minute._

_Maybe three seconds is enough for my heart to quit it?_

_Let's have some fun; this beat is sick._

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick._

_Don't think too much; just bust that kick._

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick._

_Let's play a lovegame, play a love game._

_Do you want love? Or you want fame? Are you in the game?_

_Dans the lovegame?_

END


	13. DELUXE: Track 3: Paparazzi

**Author's Note:** This track was originally going to be a historical one-shot, but I decided to continue the story for "LoveGame." After rereading it, I decided that DELUXE Track 2 was too short. (sobs and sighs) Besides, this song can kinda go along with the plot for the last track. (And I bet you all knew which character would be performing it the moment I said I would be writing out one-shots for _The Fame_.) However, the next chapter will be an independent story.

I also have some very special, very exciting news! _The Hetalian Monster_ is, as of right now, my most favorited, most watched, and most reviewed fanfic with the most hits out of any of my stories on this site! THANK YOU, LITTLE FANFICTION MONSTERS! (hugs) I wish I could order you all some pizza like GaGa did for her fans at her "Today" show appearance! XD Want even more? You can go to my DeviantART page to find artwork I've done, which includes music video sketches and CD covers, as well as fanart by others and even a slideshow-style music video for Track 6: Japan and Greece perform "Telephone!"

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Paparazzi**

Im Yong-Soo had started a nightmare and created a monster.

The nightmare had begun the moment he had reached out and grabbed Kiku's little chest, claiming his "breasts" in the name of South Korea, his home country. According to him, it had been the first move in something of a game that soon spread like wildfire throughout Hetalia Academy. Before anyone knew it, Feliciano had claimed Ludwig (although all the students, both those there and those who had graduated the year before, knew that he had _already_ claimed him in _another_ way), Alfred had claimed Arthur, and Vash had probably chased Roderich all the way back to Vienna, Austria, for even attempting to get close to his chest.

At least, they _hoped_ it was that and not one of the bullets Vash had fired. They were still wondering if Vash could even have a gun on campus in the first place.

And, soon enough, the entire student population was in on the game. Teachers suddenly had to watch for things other than cell phones, gum, and comics hidden by textbooks. Some students teetered on the edge of suspense, wondering who was next to be claimed. Raivis, Toris's friend from Latvia, had been so scared one day he had shivered himself to the point of passing out in the middle of class. Other students loved the game and pounced on anybody they could; no one was safe from the grab of fast arms and the grip of expert fingers. Ivan, the one who had caused Raivis's panic attack, in particular, was especially happy and excited.

"More to become one with Mother Russia!" he had squealed.

But there was another side to the story, and that side actually had very much to do with Ivan. He enjoyed the thought of bullying Toris and his friends, the "Baltic Trio" as they were called, for all coming from the countries that bordered on the Baltic Sea. Toris, Raivis, and their friend Eduard, a senior from Estonia, practically feared for their lives every time the school bell rang, indicating they had to get up and move to another class. Most students, especially those as sneaky and intimidating as Ivan, did not "attack" other students during class periods; it was too easy to get caught! So they kept their attacks to the hallways and bathrooms, where no one was safe.

But that was not the dark side of the game for Ivan. Maybe for the Baltic Trio, but not for Ivan.

No, the dark side was the monster in Yong-Soo's game, and it came in the form of what was probably Hetalia Academy's most beautiful, most psychotic sophomore.

"BROTHER."

"GO HOOOOOOOOME!"

Natalia Arlovskaya.

Everyone knew Natalia was absolutely insane and beyond help when it came to her obsession with her older brother. When Natalia, Ivan, and their older sister were born, Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine were just starting to rebuild themselves after the fall of the Soviet Union. Though all three of them were born in Russia, due to family issues, they were separated at a very young age and allowed to see each other only at very specific times. That was why, when the oldest of the three had announced to the family that she would be attending Hetalia Academy for high school, Ivan and Natalia were both eager to go.

Well, Ivan had been enthusiastic until he had heard that Natalia was planning on attending. Her first year had started the year prior, when Ivan was a junior and their older sister was a senior, and Ivan could not wait to finally graduate this year. His first two years with just his older sister had felt shorter than just one year with Natalia had.

The bottom line? He both loved and hated Yong-Soo for his game.

But whenever the Russian confronted the Korean about the matter, Yong-Soo just smiled and said, "The game cannot be stopped, because it originated in Korea, da ze~!"

No one was sure about how that was supposed to make sense exactly, but no one really questioned it, because everyone was too busy either grabbing breasts or avoiding said grabbing.

It was an extremely satisfying answer for Natalia, who took every chase she could find to latch onto her brother anyway. To her, this was just another excuse. "I have to grab your breasts if I want to win this game!" she had insisted right before thrusting her palms out and harshly grabbing her brother's chest once during the middle of lunch. Ivan yelped in surprise and pain, cringing at how his sister twisted her hands.

"What...what in the n-name of the czar are y-you DOING?" Ivan wept, struggling to escape the girl's grasp.

Natalia looked up at her brother and, in a very serious tone and with a straight face, said, "Trying to fuse our flesh together."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Natalia shook her head lightly and softened her grip a bit. She frowned. "Brother, I don't understand what the problem is. I just want to be close to you forever. I promise I'll be kind!"

"Natalia..."

"I do so much for you," the girl whimpered, letting her hands fall to the picnic table as she sat down next to her sibling. She set her lunch of _draniki_ aside and looked at Ivan meaningfully. "Did you know that I started to learn Russian when I was a child so that I could speak with you if we ever met up again? I bet that Baltic Trio didn't. And I have a picture of you on my nightstand back at home in Minsk. I have another one here in my apartment for Hetalia Academy." Suddenly, her head shot up. "That's right! We live separately even though we go to the same school! Why is that?"

Ivan's eyes grew wide. "Well, I-!"

"Feliciano and Lovino live together! Ludwig and Gilbert lived together when Gilbert was still a student here. That brother and sister from the Netherlands and Belgium live together, too. Even Alfred and his brother live together!"

"...Alfred has a brother?"

"...I dunno, I thought he did."

"I don't think he does."

"Oh, you're right, I'm just getting hysterical."

"It's been known to happen."

Silence...sort of. Ivan and Natalia could almost swear that they had heard someone shout, "OH, MAPLE!" and then stomp off, but they blamed their imaginations and the wind.

Natalia suddenly snapped back to herself and pulled a camera from her backpack. "I borrowed this from Elizaveta," she explained. "_бог,_ some of these pictures are dirty."

"_Что?_" Ivan cried, his cheeks turning pink.

"Meh, never mind. Now smile! I need another picture of you! A picture of _us_!" Natalia began to snap pictures like crazy, catching her brother at every angle she could. Ivan sprung up from the picnic table and ran for the school building, but Natalia was hot on his trail.

"WE WOULD BE SO FABULOUS!"

"_Оставьте меня в покое!_" Ivan sobbed as he ran for the men's room. Ha! He ran inside and slammed the door behind him. Panting a bit, he ignored Alfred's surprised rants (which was really nothing more than something along the lines of "you stupid commie" and "the toilets in here were made in America" and "not even the sewer rats will become one with you") and walked into a stall. He let out a sigh of relief as soon as the door was closed. Even someone as psycho as Natalia wouldn't follow her older brother into the men's room.

"BROTHER."

Ivan looked up and screamed at the top of his lungs. Natalia was staring down at him from the top of the stall door. Bursting out of the stall and dashing into the hallway (leaving Alfred to wonder what the hell had just happened), Ivan ran to the other end of the building to the principal's office, but Principal Himaruya was out. Groaning, Ivan walked out to the hallway again and listen for his sister.

Nothing.

And then...

"I changed my eyeliner for you!"

"Gah!"

"I even bought you cigarettes if you decided to start smoking!"

Ivan shook his head violently, the tears threatening to fall again. "No, no, that's not necessary. Uh...thanks though!" He tried smiling his usual smile, but it came out as a forced grin, which, to anyone who knew Ivan, would symbolize the end of the world, as it meant that Ivan was not his usual happy, cheery, I'm-going-to-secretly-kill-you-all-in-your-sleep self. No, Ivan was scared, to say the very least.

And when Ivan was even just the slightest bit scared, it meant that the rest of the world was, to put it simply, on the verge of collapse.

All because of one little Belarusian.

Said Belarusian looked up at Ivan, still holding the camera, and looked at him very matter-of-factly. "You know, I'll never stop following you," she told him firmly. "I'll follow you forever, no matter how long it takes you to love me back. You and I are going to live happily ever after one day, Brother."

"But we're SIBLINGS!" the Russian blurted out. "The two of us being together is _disgusting_ and morally _wrong_ on so many levels!"

"It hasn't stopped Arthur and Alfred."

"Wha...? Wait, what? They're not related!"

"They are based on history."

"What the...?"

"America was basically England's poorly behaved little brother before it declared independence."

"Since when were YOU an expert on American history?"

"Since the metaphor worked in my favor."

Silence.

Well, there was no arguing with that. Especially because Alfred didn't have a real brother. Wait, did he? Ivan was still so confused.

Natalia nodded. "See? I'm right. Now then!" She lifted the camera to her eye. "At least let me have a photo, Brother. The one on my nightstand back at home is old. I want a new one! And, better yet, I want one of the both of us!" She grabbed onto Ivan's uniform sleeve to keep him from running away and whipped her head to the side to see Alfred walking down the hallway. "Perfect! Alfred! Do me a favor, okay?"

"Huh?" Alfred looked up and grinned. "Ah, okay, Natalia, no problem." He took the camera from the Belarusian and snapped a picture of her and her brother together. "There we go." He handed the camera back to Natalia and smirked at Ivan, who was cursing the American out in his head.

Natalia ignored them both. "It's so beautiful," she sighed as she stared at the picture in the camera's storage. "It's priceless..." She looked up, smiled one last time, and walked off back towards the picnic tables to finish her lunch before her next class.

Alfred laughed. "Your evil sister is gone now. You can go back to your vodka and water pipes."

Ivan shot Alfred a dirty glare and stormed off, growling out a harsh set of noises the entire time. "Kol kol kol..."

* * *

"And that's how Natalia got her new picture of me."

"Aw, poor Ivan..."

Ivan sat in his older sister's home in Kiev, Ukraine, sipping a cup of hot tea. Months had passed since that incident, and Ivan had finally graduated from Hetalia Academy. His older sister had welcomed him into her home for a week after graduation and before he went back to Moscow for college. Ivan was just thankful to be spending time with the sane side of his family.

The Ukrainian smiled. "Can I get you some more tea? Maybe some milk?"

"Yes to the tea, with a splash of vodka, thanks."

"BROTHER."

Both Ivan and his older sister screamed at the sudden shout, which had come from inside the home. Shaking worse than Raivis, Ivan slowly peeked under the table at which he was sitting, motioning for his older sister to stay away. There, under the table, was Natalia, staring up at Ivan with wide eyes while holding out a brand new camera.

"What are YOU doing here?"

"I dropped out so I could follow you!"

"GO BACK TO SCHOOOOOOOOOL!"

_I'm your biggest fan; I'll follow you until you love me._

_Papa, paparazzi._

_Baby, there's no other superstar._

_You know that I'll be your papa, paparazzi._

_Promise I'll be kind._

_But I won't stop until that boy is mine._

_Baby, you'll be famous, chase you down until you love me._

_Papa, paparazzi._

END

**Author's Note:** _Draniki_ are traditional, Belarusian potato pancakes. What sets them apart from regular potato pancakes is that fact that the potatoes are grated down to a liquid form instead of a strip form.

**Translations** (all Russian)**:**

_бог_ = God

_Что?_ = What?

_Оставьте меня в покое!_ = Leave me alone!


	14. DELUXE: Track 4: Poker Face

**Author's Note:** I have quite a number of things to say. First of all, like "Just Dance," this chapter is connected to tracks from the original _Hetalian Monster_. The difference this time is that this track is connected to multiple tracks, three in total. It's also a historical track. That means more research for me. (sigh)

Speaking of research, I had to do a lot. (wipes sweat off forehead) And, sadly, I couldn't include everything I wanted to. There was some stuff in my research topic of choice that had to be cut from the fic for the sake of coherency and for the relation to Hetalia AND the song. Therefore, I am apologizing in advance for any historical inaccuracies and if I cut anything with a lot of historical value.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Poker Face**

More often than not, it was extremely difficult to tell what Russia was thinking and feeling based on his facial expression alone. He smiled at every opportunity, even if the situation at hand was sad or should ignite anger. The only exception to this norm was when his little sister Belarus was involved. In that case, Russia always cried out in terror and then ran for the hills, where his faint crying could be heard from Siberia. But that was really the only exception. Everyone else just got the same old creepy smile.

Especially a certain North American, who made Russia's blood boil with excitement and anticipation.

"Comrade America~"

"Stupid commie..."

The United States of America.

Russia could still remember the look on America's face when they had dissolved Prussia and separated him from Germany. That look of anger at everything...It had caused several pleasurable shivers to run through Russia's body. Sure, getting another country, or ex-country in this case, to become one with him had been fantastic, but the real thrill was America's reaction to it all. Oh yes, that had been just wonderful. Germany's screaming and threats hadn't done it for him, neither had Prussia's lifeless face and compliant attitude. No, it had all been America's opposition, his anger, his _rage_...

Russia shivered just thinking about it. "Lovely..." he whispered as he downed another shot of vodka. Across from him in his study was Prussia, who was holding the silver tray with the large bottle of alcohol. His face was still as plain and uncaring as it had been on the day of his dissolution. Russia didn't like that.

"Give me an expression," he ordered. "Come on, I tire of looking at your pathetic face like that. At least give me some indication that you're even alive in there." He smiled pleasantly and set the shot glass down while Prussia blinked slowly and shook his head.

After a moment, Russia got up from his chair. "Boring~!" he sang out, taking the vodka bottle off the tray. "Give me something, come on! I want to see some of your facial expressions. It's no fun when you're like this." His smile faded when he got nothing. Slowly, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took another drink. "Meh, whatever," he sighed as he brought the bottle away. "I don't need you to entertain me. You don't even exist anymore, so there's no point in try to get anything out of you."

Without a warning, Russia lifted the vodka bottle high above his head and smacked it down onto Prussia's, causing the albino to crumble to the floor. The alcohol splashed over him, and a few small trickles of blood ran down his forehead, staining his silver hair red in the process.

But he didn't move.

"Boring," Russia repeated. He turned to the doorway. "Ukraine!"

"Yes!" came the woman's voice as she ran down the hallway, her breasts making their _boing!_ sound as she moved. When she appeared in the doorway, she gasped at the sight of Prussia on the ground.

"He's not dead," her little brother explained. "At least physically. Clean him up for me, would you? He's at least good for serving vodka, and I only like my alcohol with the taste of worthy blood."

"...Yes." Ukraine nodded and stepped into the room as Russia walked out. After taking a moment to be sure his sister was performing her assigned task, he smiled again and walked down the hallway of his mansion to his bedroom. Once there, he immediately went for the radio, which had been his source for everything his former Allies were doing. Oh, how wonderful it was to hear of their struggles...

After a moment of crackling, the radio finally evened out, and the signal came through clearly. The first words spoken were enough to get Russia's blood pumping, even if they weren't from his dear enemy America.

"Former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill has called for an Anglo-American alliance against the Soviets."

"Oh, hell yeah."

* * *

The next time he saw him, Prussia was even more dead-looking, if that was possible. East Germany presented Russia with a fresh bottle of vodka, though the tray was shaking. Russia did not smile. "What's wrong with you, hmm?" he asked. "Come on, you can tell me all about it." He looked back down at the tray and noticed that Prussia's hands were shaking. Suddenly, Russia smiled. "Oh, I see. Nervous? Anxious? Afraid? Give me an expression here!"

Nothing.

Regardless, Russia's smile grew.

"Perfect."

"It means that the relief of the Marshall Plan isn't reaching his people, right?" Belarus asked from the other side of the living room. She polished one of her knives and continued, "They have no food or money, so it makes sense he'd be like this."

"Da," Russia agreed, taking the vodka bottle. "But I don't like the fact that Greece and Italy were able to fight off their communist enemies."

"Shit happens. They're not even your territories, Brother."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Russia sighed as he took a drink. "I would have loved to separate Italy though. Who do you think would be a better addition to the Soviet Union?"

"Veneciano," the little sister replied as she admired her reflection in her knife. "Then West Germany would be even more miserable, and Romano would be stuck with him. Plus, I hear Veneciano was a fantastic maid under Austria. I'd _love_ to play dress-up with him..." She smirked and licked the edge of the blade.

For once, Russia did not scream out in terror. "Yes, I like that," he agreed. "Maybe I should go over there and claim him? Bribe him with some pasta? He'd make a great addition to my _collection_..."

"NO!"

_Crash! Splash!_

Russia looked up and saw two blood red eyes glaring into him. "No. Friggin'. Way," Prussia hissed. "You can do whatever the hell you want to me, but you can't hurt Italy. I won't let you, do you hear me? Psycho communist!"

Russia seemed unfazed. "I was just getting used to you being dead. Ah well. I suppose you're right about Italy." He paused and a horrible, sinister smile bloomed on his face. Prussia took a few steps back out of fear. He knew that smile all too well. When he tried to run, Russia grabbed his arm and yanked it backwards, causing his shoulder to pop painfully. Prussia cried out and Russia laughed a bit.

"Kol kol kol, yes, you are right about Italy, but you're even more right about what I can do to you." He tugged him upwards and turned him around so both arms were behind his back. Prussia screamed from the forced tugs and tried to get away, but the monster's grip was too much. "I can do _anything I want_..."

Through the struggle, neither of them had heard the phone ring. Belarus, however, was right next to it on the couch and picked it up, greeting the speaker in her sweetest voice. After a few minutes of listening, the girl nodded.

"I'll ask him. Brother!" She put her hand over the microphone and waited until Russia had a moment. "America is cursing you out like you wouldn't believe. I think he's pissed off that you're blocking aid to West Berlin, converting China to our ways, and backing South Korea's insane brother. What should I tell him?"

"Like North Korea's the most insane one here!" Prussia interrupted. "Do you have any friggin' idea who YOU'RE related to?"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT BROTHER LIKE THAT."

"Belarus, darling, it wasn't necessary to stab Prussia in the back like that, da, especially because you just cleaned that knife."

"My apologies, Brother."

"Get back to America, would you? Tell him that that's not all I've got planned."

_I'll play with your heart and everything it holds dear, America, just you wait..._

_

* * *

_

With the death of Russia's boss Stalin came Khrushchev, with whom Russia was sure he would get along. He liked his way of thinking, and he liked how he wanted to move on from Stalin's mistakes.

Most of all, he loved how determined he was to make the West crumble.

"I had a nice chat with China's boss the other day," Khrushchev once said nonchalantly as he and Russia shared vodka shots. "He seemed like a reasonable man, but he's splitting from us. Plus, now we've got a little propaganda war to deal with. Damn." He downed the alcohol. "He told me I was losing my revolutionary edge and that I was nothing compared to Stalin."

Russia smiled. He was already planning a _visit_ to China's place.

"I do have a new theory about Berlin though," his boss continued.

"Oh?" Now Russia was interested.

"Berlin is the testicles of the West. Every time I want to make the West scream, I squeeze Berlin."

Russia burst out laughing. "That's perfect, da!"

They both laughed and ignored the fact that Prussia was standing not three feet away from them with the vodka bottle. It didn't matter. Prussia was battered and bruised and incapable of fighting back anyway.

"Oh, and I've got something to piss America off even further."

Russia wiped his eyes of the tears from laughing and smiled at his boss. "What would that be?" He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it so badly.

Khrushchev folded his hands over one another and set his elbows down on his desk. "Sputnik," he said, smiling devilishly. "We did it."

Russia felt a pleasant shiver run violently through his body. Yes. Yes! HELL YES! This was the moment he had been waiting for. It was too wonderful to hear that his boss and people had managed to launch Earth's first missile _and_ satellite. A reaction from America couldn't be far behind.

The phone rang.

Russia smiled. _Speak of the Devil._ "Hello?"

"YOU IDIOT COMMIE! I'M GOING TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS SO FAR YOU'LL HAVE VODKA SPEWING FROM YOUR FRIGGIN' NOSE!"

"I love how your reactions always get me so high, da. I'll show you what I've got."

And he hung up.

Khrushchev smiled and looked to Prussia. "What about him? he asked. "We should do something to make sure he doesn't escape in all this."

"Hmm, yes," Russia agreed. "I believe a barrier is in order."

Estonia and Latvia, who happened to be passing by the room, overheard. "Um, excuse me," Estonia said nervously, capturing the attention of Russia and his boss. "I don't think that's such a good idea. Isn't something like that against Marxism-Leninism?"

Russia shrugged. "Maybe. But you know what?"

Latvia audibly gulped. "What?"

"We play Russian Roulette here, and it isn't the same without gun. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Um...no."

"LATVIAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Russia smiled. "I'm not willing to play this game without some real risk. That's what makes it all so fun. Oh! And speaking of fun..." He turned to Prussia, took the vodka bottle off the tray, and grabbed his arm. "I want to play with my favorite toy now."

Khrushchev nodded and smiled playfully. "Have a good time!"

* * *

Perhaps the most frustrating part of the Cold War was the fact that America seemed to be able to be friends with everyone. Granted, Vietnam currently hated him with every fiber of her being, but that was a minor detail to Russia. Who cared about one of the world's poorest countries anyway? The only thing he cared about was the fact that the communist forces had taken over the Asian girl's land and had driven the Americans out. Points for communism!

But then America went and became friends with China, whom Russia had converted years before. This did not sit well with him, as America's tense relationship with the rest of the world was beginning to ease up.

Though things became even worse in 1979.

"Are you sure it was absolutely necessary to invade Afghanistan?" Lithuania asked Russia one night before bed. The Baltic stood in his pajamas in the doorway to Russia's room, his usual fear gone. Instead, he was confused and unsure. This seemed like too much.

Despite the somewhat confident tone of Lithuania's voice, Russia wasn't bothered by the question. "I have to do whatever it takes to back the communist forces in all countries," he replied. "That's all." A pause. "Go get East Germany to bring me some vodka."

Lithuania went to say something but stopped himself. "Yes," he replied quietly, turning and heading towards the kitchen. By the time he made it, Prussia was already there with a new bottle.

"It's what I think it is, isn't it?"

Lithuania nodded. "The little monster wants his bedtime milk."

Prussia snickered. "That's the best way anyone has ever put it."

* * *

The following year shocked the world, and Russia was feeling the effects.

"That's why the United States of America has decided to boycott the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow, Russia, of the Soviet Union."

America gave a confident nod to President Carter, his boss at the time, and agreed. "But we will be playing in the Winter Olympics of the same year," he added.

At this, Russia smiled, amused. He and Leonid Brezhnev, his new boss, stood before America and Carter. This was too much. "You're not going to play in my Games, but you're going to make a fool of yourself against my Olympic teams in the winter? My, Comrade America, I would think that you would actually want to, you know, _win something!_"

America rolled his eyes at Russia's antics, proud that his boss wasn't reacting either. "Shut up, commie," he hissed. "It's our decision. And, besides, who says we're not going to win anything? I bet that my hockey team can beat yours!"

"America!" Carter gasped. "Don't say that! Do you know how mismatched the hockey team is?"

"Yeah, listen to your boss," Brezhnev laughed. "He's a lot smarter than he looks."

America shot the leader a glare and turned back to Russia. "That face of yours has always bothered me. I can never tell what you're thinking." His eyes narrowed. "I bet you're fantastic at Poker."

"I am actually."

"Whatever. We'll see you on the ice."

"I look forward to your defeat!"

* * *

"Eleven seconds..."

"Go! Go! Go, Americans!"

"You've got ten seconds, the countdown going on right now!"

"Pick it up, USSR, so that I may marry my brother!"

"Morrow, up to Silk..."

"Ve! Ve, Germany, look! Look! I know you're not speaking, but you have to watch this!"

"Five seconds left in the game!"

"SHOW THOSE COMMIES WHO'S BOSS IN THE NAME OF THE UNITED STATES!"

"DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?"

Lithuania. Latvia. Estonia. Ukraine. Prussia.

"GIVE US OUR FREEDOOOOOOOOM!"

Russia.

"..._What?_"

"YES!"

"Oh, my God, WE WON!"

"...Congratulations, America."

"Heh."

"What?"

"I take back what I said."

"What?"

"You must suck at Poker. Your emotions are written all over your face, stupid commie."

_I won't tell you that I love you, kiss or hug you,_

_'Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin,_

_I'm not lying; I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunning._

_Just like a chick in the casino,_

_Take your bank before I pay you out._

_I promise this, promise this._

_Check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous._

_Can't read my, can't read my, no, he can't read my Poker Face._

END


	15. DELUXE: Track 5: Eh, Eh

**Author's Note:** There's a poll about _The Hetalian Monster_ up in my profile. I'd appreciate it if you took a moment to answer it, because it'll help me write better one-shots for you all.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)**

The first time Canada knew something was wrong was when France did not hum while making dinner. Cooking was one of France's favorite hobbies, and it filled him with joy to make delicious food for himself and his adorable colony, so much that he would always hum a sweet tune while preparing meals. Canada loved the sound of France's voice humming out notes in his throat; it was so relaxing and comforting. So when he did not hum while standing before the little oven in his colonial home, Canada was a bit concerned, but he didn't say anything. He was still given a fantastic dinner that night, complete with a maple-flavored piece of candy afterwards, so he didn't complain.

The second time Canada knew something was wrong was a bit more alarming. One morning, he awoke late and nearly cried out at the sight of the sun so high in the sky. Why had France not wakened him like he did every morning? Why had he not snuggled his nose into Canada's round, soft cheeks and whispered morning greetings in his ear? Why had he not kissed his forehead, picked him up in his warm arms, and gently bring him into the conscious world? Where was France anyway? At the very least, there would be the smell of a delicious breakfast in the air, but Canada couldn't even smell day-old bread.

Curious and scared, Canada jumped down from his bed, squeaking as his bare feet hit the wood floor, and ran downstairs to the kitchen. Nothing. Growing more and more nervous by the moment, Canada scampered back upstairs, tears nearly forming in his eyes, and knocked on France's door.

"Papa! Papa!" he called. "Papa, are you there, eh?" He knocked on the door again. "Papa!"

Suddenly, the door inched open, causing Canada to jump back in surprise. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to see none other than France.

However, there was a problem.

"Ah, I'm very sorry, Canada, I overslept." The man bent down to his colony and smiled. Canada blinked the tears out of his eyes. France smelled like alcohol and had no cologne on, and his normally soft, silky hair was a mess. "I will make you a nice meal as soon as I get dressed, okay? Be a good boy and put your day clothes on, okay?" He pat the child's head, smiled, got up, and went back into his room, closing the door behind him.

Canada looked down to the floor, frowning. "Yes, Papa."

The third time Canada knew something was wrong was the most terrifying, most startling, and most irresponsible instance out of anything France had even done, even before taking Canada under his care. The act, or lack thereof, left Canada crying in bed that night, whimpering out of fear and pain.

He had not cooked dinner.

And he had never said a thing truly explaining why.

"I just do not want to cook," he had said, leaving Canada absolutely baffled. "Can you manage to find something to eat on your own?"

Canada looked up at his caretaker with wide eyes swimming with tears. But he was a good boy and didn't let them fall. He took in a deep breath and nodded slowly. His spirit was not lifted when France smiled. If anything, he felt even worse, because the smile was forced and obviously a lie. Regardless, Canada stood in the kitchen and watched as France climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Quietly, as soon as he was gone, Canada dragged a chair to the kitchen counter, climbed on top, and reached for a slice of bread. He reached and reached, further and further, but his arm was just too small, and he fell short of his only chance at food for the evening. When he realized it was futile, he climbed down and pushed the chair back to the table.

Canada tucked himself into bed that night, eyes full of tears and stomach growling loudly.

The next day, France at least made a breakfast of pancakes for his little colony, but it was not up to his French standards. Canada didn't say anything, mostly because he was just so happy to have food on his plate, but he also noticed that his papa was not well. In fact, ever since that first night when he had not hummed while making dinner, France had begun to look worse and worse. There were bags under his dull eyes, and his skin was looking pale and blotchy. Canada suspected that he had not slept well since that first night, and he feared for his caretaker's health.

"Papa?" he finally began over breakfast that day.

France looked up from his plate. "Yes?"

"What's wrong, eh?"

France went to say something but stopped. No, he couldn't tell sweet, adorable, innocent Canada about what was going on. The boy was far too precious, and he couldn't worry him. Absolutely not.

He managed a smile. "Nothing is wrong, dear Canada," he said. "Everything is just fine."

This made Canada frown. "I'm sorry, Papa," he murmured, letting his head drop. "I didn't mean to do something wrong. I didn't mean to hurt you."

France's eyes widened. "Canada..."

"I...never thought I'd do something to make you mad at me, Papa. I never thought we'd...fall..."

France watched as little tears fell down Canada's round cheeks onto the kitchen floor. The boy couldn't finish his sentence; he was already crying too hard. It made France choke. How the boy cared for him...It would have been touching if France's heart was not breaking in his chest.

"It's nothing like that, Canada!" he defended, trying to appear as happy as possible. Even he didn't believe his smile. "I love you very much, my little darling. You don't know how much I love you! You could never do anything to make me hate you. Even if you were a naughty little boy, which you are not, I would never hate you!"

Canada sniffed pathetically and looked up. "That's a lie, eh? I must have done something wrong, because you've never been like this before!"

France bit his lip. _I've also never had to deal with losing you before._ He stood, walked over to his colony, and picked the little boy up in his arms. "Canada, my darling, sweet, innocent, adorable, pure, little Canada," he whispered, "believe me when I say you're not the cause of any of this. Nothing that is happening to Papa is your fault."

Canada wrapped his arms around France's neck and hung on for dear life, as if the man could disappear at any moment. "Then...then why are you so sad?"

"It's...complicated."

"...Complicated, eh?" Canada repeated the word a few times, as if testing out how it felt on his tongue. He didn't like it. "What does that mean?"

France took a deep breath. "It means that the problem isn't easy to explain." _But I may as well try._ "Do you remember America, that little boy who lives to the south of you?"

Canada nodded. "Yes, Papa, he looks a lot like me."

France smiled at that. Yes, there was no doubt that America and Canada were identical. He prayed that wouldn't come back to haunt his little colony later in life. "Do you remember the man America lives with?" he continued as he stroked Canada's baby soft hair. "Do you remember the man with the huge eyebrows who claims that fairies exist?"

Canada nodded again. "England, eh?"

"That's right," France confirmed. "You have such a good memory, Canada. You'll make so many good friends that way." He paused to give the child a reassuring hug. "Well, England and I have been...arguing a little bit lately, more than we usually do. England did a very mean thing and forced Prussia to be his friend, not mine."

"But you and Prussia are such good friends!" Canada cried out in alarm, pushing himself away from France to look straight into the man's eyes. "You and Prussia and Spain were the Bad Friends who beat Austria because he was being silly, right? How could Prussia ever not want to be friends with you anymore, Papa, eh? You're too nice! You make yummy food and give me lots of love." Canada suddenly paused with a stunned conclusion. "Does...Prussia not like your cooking? Does he think you don't like him enough? You have to convince him that you're a better friend, Papa! England isn't very good at cooking, and I don't know how America can eat the stuff he makes. And England isn't very nice either, eh? I like you a lot better, Papa, and Prussia is really silly for not being your friend anymore!"

France was honestly touched by his colony's outburst, and it made him want to cry. If only things could be that simple. If only what Canada has suggested could work. But there was no way around it. After the War of the Austrian Succession, there was no way England would ever pass up the opportunity to ally himself with Prussia, who had taken Silesia from the once-powerful Austria. After defeating Spain's so-called invincible armada, England had the most powerful navy in the world, and Prussia's growing power had placed him at the top of Europe's land-based armies. Together, the two were unstoppable. As much as France hated to do it, his only option was to stick with Spain and ally himself with Austria, who had also allied himself with Russia, the large nation eager to get a hit on Prussia, whom he had always thought of distastefully. Add that to the fact that England and France had been fighting since birth, and there was no way this situation could end well.

And it didn't.

"It's not Prussia's fault, Canada," France replied, shaking his head. "He's not a bad person. If he were, he wouldn't be able to take care of his little brother so well. Only good people can raise good people, and Prussia's little brother is a very nice little boy. You remember meeting him, right?"

Canada nodded. "Yes, he's very nice. But...he's not a country...or even a colony, eh?"

France smiled softly. "Not yet," he whispered, "but he will be. Prussia promises me that. Maybe, when the two of you grow up, you can be friends." He brought Canada back to his shoulder and continued to rock him soothingly. "Don't blame Prussia, okay? Don't be angry with him."

Canada nodded again. "Okay, Papa, I won't. Prussia is a little loud, but he's a very nice man. I promise not to be mad at him."

"There's a good boy." France kissed his colony's little head, smoothing back the honey-colored hair. "England did some not-so-nice things and said that the rest of us, mostly Spain and myself, have to give him...some of our favorite things."

France could feel a tiny wetness beginning to form on his shoulder. Canada wiped his eyes and buried his face into the luxurious fabric of the man's coat. "That's not nice at all, eh? I don't like England, Papa. I don't know how America can eat his food or want to play with him all the time."

"...I don't know why either."

"Do you _really_ have to give him your favorite things, Papa? Like...your favorite clothes or your favorite toys, eh?"

"...Something like that."

"You should hide some things from England so you don't have to give him them."

"...How I wish I could, Canada, how I wish I could..."

Canada sniffed, trying to dry his eyes. "I don't want to grow up, Papa. I don't like how mean everyone is to you. I wanna stay your colony forever, Papa. Is that okay, eh?"

"...I think you should finish your breakfast, my darling," France murmured, kissing Canada's head again. "You shouldn't worry about such things at your age. You are not a grown-up yet, so there is no reason for you to think about stuff like that. Let Papa worry about it for you." He gave his colony another kiss and set him back down in his chair. "If you're a good boy today and finish your pancakes, I'll make you pancakes again for lunch, and you can have all the maple syrup you want on them. And if you're a _very_ good little boy, I'll make you the best dinner you've ever had, and I'll let you stay up as late as you want, and you can have lots of maple candies. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Canada was no idiot, even as a child. He knew that France had purposefully not answered his question, but he couldn't get his mind off his papa's offer. Pancakes for lunch with all the maple syrup he wanted sounded fantastic, and he really wanted to make his papa as happy as possible by being good. Smiling, he picked up his utensils and continued to eat his breakfast. After swallowing a bite, he said, "I promise to be the best boy I can be today, Papa. I'll be a big help and not bother you at all."

France ruffled Canada's hair, smiling happily and absorbing the moment. "You're never a bother to me, Canada. You're a very well-behaved little colony. I love you very much." He kissed the child again and went back to his own breakfast.

Of course, throughout the rest of the day, Canada was on his best behavior. He came to his papa whenever France called him, and he was a very big help when it came to cleaning. Still, regardless of whether or not Canada behaved, France was going to fulfill his end of the promise anyway. He made the lunch's pancakes extra fluffy and and let Canada pour nearly the entire bottle of maple syrup on them. He played with the child for the entire day, and the two smiled all afternoon as they sat under the large maple trees in the colonial home's backyard. When dinner came around, France cooked the largest, most grand meal he had ever made. It even surpassed meals he had cooked for his boss and the upper class citizens of his country. Canada, to say the very lest, was thrilled and ate his fill but never forgot his manners.

After a bath, France dressed Canada in his pajamas and sat with in the comfort of their home. Just like he had promised, he gave Canada as many maple candies as he wanted, and he let him stay up way past his bedtime. By the time Canada was finally asleep, the moon was high in the sky, and it lit up the beautiful fields of Canada's lands.

Slowly and quietly, France stood and wrapped a warm blanket around his colony, kissing him on the forehead multiple times. Once he was sure that Canada was snug, he walked to the front door and headed outside. After a few minutes of walking, he turned back to the colonial home and stared at it, drilling the image of it in his mind. Eventually, he turned back to Canada and gazed at his peaceful, sleeping face. After giving his cheek a kiss, he continued to walk, not even bothered when a polar bear cub began to follow him.

"I love you, Canada," he whispered the entire time. "I love you. I love you with all my heart..."

* * *

Canada awoke to many words he did not understand. He quickly noticed that America was at his side, blabbering away in some foreign language. Suddenly, America stopped and called out for someone. After a moment, England appeared in the doorway and began speaking to America in that same strange language.

To say that Canada was confused would be an understatement. At his side in the bed was a polar bear he had never seen before, and two people he didn't exactly care for were now in his bedroom speaking in a language he didn't understand. And then Canada realized that he wasn't in his bedroom. No, he had never seen this room before. He looked back up to England to see the man smiling and nodding.

"Well, America, if he only speaks French, we'll just have to teach him English, won't we?" he asked, Canada not understanding a word. "Teach him proper English though, not your improper slang. I couldn't stand it if both of you spoke so rudely."

Despite the language barrier, Canada did understand one word: English. They wanted him to learn English. _But why, eh?_ Canada asked himself. _Countries only learn other languages when they have to. Why do I...!_

Canada gasped.

France had to give his favorite thing to England.

Canada burst into tears.

And when England and America tried to comfort him and ask what was wrong, Canada only said one thing.

_"Il n'y a rien que je puisse dire, eh, eh?"_

_And eh! There's nothing else I can say._

_Eh, eh, eh, eh, there's nothing else I can say._

_Eh, eh, eh, eh, I wish he never looked at me that way._

_Eh, eh, eh, eh, there's nothing else I can say._

_Eh, eh, eh, eh..._

END

Translation (French):

_Il n'y a rien que je puisse dire, eh, eh?_ = There is nothing I can say, eh, eh?


	16. DELUXE: Track 6: Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

**Author's Note:** I've been working on new artwork for _The Hetalian Monster_ at my DeviantART page. Specifically, I've done new drawings for "Alejandro" and "Telephone," both inspired by the music videos. More pictures will follow soon. And thanks to everyone who has answered the poll in my profile. I appreciate it. Keep your votes coming!

I don't know a damn thing about Blackjack or casinos in general. XD

And short three-in-one one-shot is short.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Beautiful, Dirty, Rich**

**Beautiful**

_"You're worried about the other nations not wanting to visit you because you're so small? For crying out loud, Monaco, you're not Sealand! You are a beautiful country nestled between France and the Mediterranean Sea. It doesn't get much better than that! So show some of it off."_

Those words rang out in Monaco's head as she stood on a dock in La Condamine, the second-oldest of her districts. It was located right on the waters of the Mediterranean Sea and was a common spot for famous celebrities to sail on their private yachts. Monaco herself had been very lucky to meet and host several of the biggest names in entertainment, politics, and business over the years, and the people came from all over the world, bringing their own bits of culture with them. That had caused her to have quite a knowledge of world affairs, of which she was extremely proud. She was, after all, the second-smallest country in the world, right after the Vatican City.

At first, her size had bothered her. Could she really attract anyone with so little land to offer? And if she could attract people, would she have enough room to fit them all? Could she give them what they wanted with so little space? Such questions often plagued her before she introduced herself at the World Meeting that one time. As soon as she made herself known, people started flooding her lands.

France, her neighbor and primary caretaker, was pleased. "Monaco is such a beauty, _non_? It would be a shame for all this loveliness to go to waste."

Monaco had blushed at that. She had not been used to compliments at the time. However, the compliments were appropriate. Being right on the Mediterranean Sea, Monaco's country had a warm, welcoming climate all year round. And, of course, being on the water meant she could offer all sorts of sports and hobbies as the sun shone down pleasantly in the sapphire sky. The mountains surrounding the water and residential areas were covered in gorgeous greenery, so the mix of natural colors was enough to inspire any artistic endeavor. It blew Monaco's mind to think that, at one point, she didn't have this confidence.

Now though, standing on the dock, watching the wealthy sail in and out of the port, she could not be more proud of how beautiful her country was. People all over the world dreamed of visiting the Mediterranean, and the wave of riches from tourists had made her a vacation hotspot.

"And to think I attracted people here without offering anything questionable," she said to herself as she gazed into the crystal clear water of the sea. "I mean, I don't even have a red light district! Plenty of dancing and partying with lots of beautiful people getting shit-faced? Yes. Pornographic content? None of the public kind." She nodded, satisfied with this conclusion.

Suddenly, Monaco smiled. Looking up, she could see a new yacht sailing into the harbor, one she had never seen before. "New guests! Better go greet them," she sighed happily as she headed over to the yacht's dock.

**Dirty**

_"You don't realize how iconic your country is, do you, Monaco? Hello! It's where lots of famous movies have been shot! Plus, it's seen as one of the most luxurious places in the world to gamble. Vegas has nothing on you."_

Monaco figured that she had to thank America and England for shooting their films and TV series at her place at the very least. Scenes from the James Bond films at been shot at Monte Carlo, a popular resort area. Alfred Hitchcock had also used the area in his 1954 film _To Catch a Thief_. More modernly, America's _Iron Man 2_ included a scene that took place during Monaco's famous World Prix. That had caused a new generation to become interested in what the tiny country had to offer.

And it showed in the casino.

"Good evening," Monaco herself greeted at the Blackjack table one night, "I'll be your dealer tonight." She glanced at each one of the players and made mental notes. _Oh yeah, that one's definitely a rookie. And the one next to him is going to play dirty. Well, two can play at that game._

After dealing the initial cards, Monaco waited for the hand signals to indicate the next moves. Hit, hit, double down, hit, hit, surrender, hit...interesting. Then the card totals came up. Eighteen, twenty-five, twenty three, twenty, fifteen, seventeen...twenty-one. Monaco looked up and frowned. Just as she thought. It had been him.

"Winner," she announced, pointing to the cheater. The man grinned and guided the victory haul of chips to his side of the table. The other players tried to let the first round not bother them, but things weren't looking good as the game went on. Damn that guy.

But Monaco wasn't distraught. She had a plan.

As the players signaled for their next cards, Monaco slipped one in the deck while the others were distracted. Perfect. That bastard cheater had bet everything on this round, hoping to take away a large chunk of change at the end of the night. Not on Monaco's watch.

The cards came up.

And he lost.

"What the hell?" the man shouted, clearly enraged. "What did you do to the deck, bitch?"

"Absolutely nothing you didn't do," Monaco replied casually. "Look, you lost and have to hand over your previous winnings. Those are the rules."

The other players nodded, satisfied with her answer, but the cheater wasn't willing to leave without a fight. "You have no proof that I cheated. Hell, you're the employee here, so you should be the one we're against! This is blatant fraud against a paying customer!"

Monaco rolled her eyes and turned towards a waiter walking by. "Bring me a drink, would you? And ice cream topped with honey."

"BITCH, LISTEN TO ME!"

"No, you listen to _me_," Monaco snapped. "I'm no average employee here, okay? I'm a lot more than that, and I can tell that you cheated." She turned away and thanked the waiter as he set the alcohol and dessert down for the girl. After a single bite of the sweet treat, she looked back at the man. "You shouldn't have worn pants tighter than plastic, dumbass."

At that moment, two large security guards grabbed the man and dragged him out of the casino, causing a huge scene as well as a round of applause. The other players at the table turned towards Monaco with astonished yet happy faces.

"That was incredible, Miss," the rookie said. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure," Monaco replied, smiling. "Sorry about him. Let me make it up to you guys. A round of drinks and ice cream on me."

**Rich**

_"And, if nothing else, you're the one with the money, Monaco. I'd like to see anyone question you with that under your belt."_

No income tax.

Oh, _God_, it was a beautiful thing.

It was perhaps the one thing about her country that attracted the wealthy people of Europe, especially the richest people of France. Most people who came to her country benefitted from doing their business outside Monaco and not having to deal with the income tax. Those wealthy foreigners just added to the appeal. They brought with them the tourists wanting to see what it was like to live such a lifestyle, and Monaco's own money-making was going rather well. The standards of living were quite high, and her resorts brought the best of the best.

To hell with those who criticized her. Monaco was a tax haven.

But that didn't stop France from accusing her of being lax. "Forgive me, Monaco," he once said to her, "but how can I trust you with money if you're into gambling? You could gamble all the money you get away! Then what will you do?"

Monaco just sighed. "Geez, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I totally regret attracting Europe's wealthiest. Are you just pissed off that all your upper class citizens are coming to me?"

That shut him up.

Monaco smiled at the memory as she stood on the balcony of her home in Monaco-Ville. It wasn't that she wanted to annoy France. In fact, she depended heavily on him! But she wanted to be her own nation at the same time. Her situation wasn't too different from Liechtenstein's, the more she thought about it. The two would have to talk about it sometime.

And she'd have to thank Hungary for all the advice at the next Dance in the Dark.

_Daddy, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, yeah._

_We just like to party, like to p-p-party, yeah._

_Bang! Bang! We're beautiful n' dirty rich._

_(Dirty, dirty, rich, dirty, dirty, rich, beautiful.)_

_Bang! Bang! We're beautiful n' dirty rich._

_(Beautiful n' dirty, dirty, rich, dirty, dirty, rich, bang, bang.)_

END


	17. DELUXE: Track 7: The Fame

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: The Fame**

_Dear Ma...Santa, I, Sealand, Peter Kirkland, have been a very good little boy this year. I ate all my yucky vegetables even though I didn't want to. I took Hanatamago for her daily walk with my papa and picked up after her even though Jerk England seriously deserved her droppings on his lawn. Oh yeah, I only bothered Jerk England a few times, which, might I add, he also deserved. I tried to help my friend Latvia get over his anxiety, but I think he's beyond help. I tried though! Admit it: That's what's important! I also helped yo...my mama...with the laundry, and I picked my robot toys up off the floor when I was done with them. Well, I did every time I remembered anyway. I also helped my mama nurse his hangover, even though I still don't understand why he had a blue lightning bolt on his face. I also stayed with Uncle Norway when Uncle Denmark was in the hospital, because Uncle Norway was too scared to be alone. He kept saying that it was all his fault Uncle Denmark was sick in the hospital, and I tried to tell him that it wasn't, I really did! I still don't understand what was going on, but I held Uncle Norway's hand every time he got scared and cried. And then I stayed with Uncle Iceland when Uncle Norway saw Uncle Denmark again, and I didn't say or do anything at all to upset them. I think that, more than anything else, deserves a little recognition._

_So, in return for all that, I have only one thing on my Christmas list this year. Please, Ma...Santa, can you turn me into a recognized country of the world? I don't want to be a big one; being smaller than even the Italian Brothers' Vatican City would be okay. I just want to have a little fame, okay? If you start me off with just a tiny bit, I'll build myself up as I go on. I promise not to waste it, and I promise you won't be disappointed! Pretty pretty please?_

_Love, your so...good friend,_

_Peter "Sealand" Kirkland_

"What do you think, Papa?"

Sweden read over the message to his wife a second time before replying to his son. Sealand always asked for the same thing of Finland every year, but, this year, the note meant much more than it usually did. Everyone knew that the principality wanted nothing more than to be a recognized country, but it wasn't easy to grant the child his wish. First of all, Sweden thought his son was far too young and ill-prepared to take on the world. He knew that size didn't matter; a country didn't have to be the size of Russia's territory to have influence. Hell, the Vatican City, the smallest country in the world, had a ton of influence on the religious world! And Sealand was willing to be even smaller! And the way he had described his actions throughout the year in the note...It was touching because it was so damn true.

Finally, the father turned to his adopted son and smiled a bit. "'t's a w'nd'rful lett'r, S''l'nd," he replied, ruffling the boy's hair a bit. "S'nta w'll l've 't."

"I still don't know why I have to address the letter to Santa instead of Mama," Sealand sighed as his father stuck the note into an envelope. "After all, Mama is the one who delivers all the presents on Christmas, right? Couldn't I just write him a letter and stick it under his pillow or something?"

"M' w'fe 'sn't th' t''th fa'ry."

"I'm not saying he is, Papa! And, if anyone in the family would be any kind of fairy, it would be Uncle Norway!"

Sweden pondered that for a moment. Norway going all around the world, collecting children's baby teeth, and placing money under their pillows...Now THAT was an image, one the magic wielder would most likely kill him for. Or at least haunt his dreams with troll spirits. Sweden shook his head. "C'n't 'nsee," he muttered as he stood and went to find a stamp for his son's letter.

"Papa?"

Sweden turned back around. "Wh't?"

"Do you think I was a good enough boy this year? I mean...I really tried to be good when all the bad stuff was happening around here..."

Truer words had never been spoken about the micro-nation. Even before Denmark's incident, Sealand really had eaten all his vegetables even though he obviously hated them, and he really had picked up after Hanatamago. He had also truly only bothered England a few times throughout the year, which was a major improvement considering that, at one point, he would visit his older brother figure almost every day. Then, when Finland had come home passed-out drunk with that blue lightning bolt on his face, Sealand had done everything Sweden asked him to do when he finally awoke. He hadn't made any loud noises, and he had picked up his toys so Finland wouldn't trip over them. And whenever Finland had to lie down, Sealand would bring him glasses of water to keep him hydrated.

And then the incident happened.

Sweden shook the memories of that awful time from his head. Not only had Denmark's country been in a state of panic, but the rest of the world was scared, too, wondering what would happen to the former ruler of Scandinavia. No, that time was over. Everything was fine now. No more reason to worry.

Through all the bad memories, Sweden found the strength to smile again. "V'ry g'od," he confirmed. "M'm' kn'ws yo' w're g'od. D'n't w'rry."

"But, Papa!" Sealand protested, standing from his chair at the dining table. Based on his expression, he looked like he could start crying at any moment. "I don't want to be like the other nations of the world. I don't want to be like Jerk England or anybody like that. All they care about is stupid stuff like alcohol and cars and junk like that. They only want to show off how awesome they think they are. I mean, some of them are pretty awesome, but if they're awesome, they're usually really obnoxious, too. I like spending time with Mister America, but I can't spend too long with him, because he gets really annoying talking about all the stuff he has. I don't want that, Papa!"

This was new. Never before had Sealand explained why he wanted to be a nation in such detail. He had always said that he just wanted to make England regret abandoning him on the sea. Had he changed his reasons?

Sweden tilted his head a bit. "Wh't d' ya w'nt th'n?"

Sealand swallowed. "I want...to be somebody important," he admitted. "I want something...more than just the material stuff." Suddenly, he perked up. "But please don't take away the action figures Japan gave me, okay? I still really like them!"

His father shook his head amusedly. "W'n' t'ke 'em 'way," he promised. He smiled gently and walked back to his son. He confidently put a hand on Sealand's little head and continued, "Ya w're r''lly g'od th's y''r. M'm' kn'ws th't."

After a brief moment of silence, Sealand looked up again. "Can I go play at Latvia's house?"

"S're."

Sealand ran to the front door, grabbed his coat, and headed outside. "Thank you, Papa!" he called as he ran for his friend. "Make sure Mama gets my letter when he comes back from his meeting with his boss, okay?"

Sweden silently waved goodbye. Once Sealand was out of sight, he ushered Hanatamago into he crate and gave her a treat, muttering something about being back in a little while. He then donned his own coat, stuck Sealand's letter in his pocket, and headed outside.

* * *

_Knock, knock!_

Sweden stood on Iceland's doorstep, waiting for his call to be answered. Looking up, he noticed many of Puffin's relatives flying around in the gray skies overhead. He noted that he could still see some remains of Eyjafjallajokul's eruption in the distance, and his brain spun with the proper pronunciation.

Suddenly, the door opened. "Sve?" Iceland asked. "Can I help you?"

"H'w d' ya pr'n''nce-?"

"'Ay-yah-FYAH-lah-yer-kuhl.' Is that all?"

As if Sweden didn't have a pronunciation problem enough as it was.

The tall Nordic shook his head. "N', b't th'nks fer th't." He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out the letter. "R''d th's."

Iceland cocked his head and moved to the side. "Come in. It's too cold outside. Nor and Den are here, too." He took Sweden's coat and hung it up on the rack as soon as the man stepped into his home. He then led him down the halls and into the dining room, where Norway and Denmark were snacking on some Freyju Ris.

"Hey, Sve!" Denmark laughed. "What brings you here? I thought that you became Santa's Little Helper this time of year. Shouldn't you be helping your wife?" He continued to snicker obnoxiously and popped another candy in his mouth.

Sweden rolled his eyes. "F'n 's o't," he replied, sitting down at the table. "W'nt ya t' r''d s'mthin'." He placed the letter on the table and sent it across to the other Nordics.

Denmark picked it up and removed the letter from the envelope. "Sealand wrote this," he announced to the others. "Aw, isn't that cute? He wrote a Christmas letter to his mama!" He gushed a bit before he began to read it aloud.

As the Dane read, the house became very quiet. Even the puffins outside seemed to become silent. Puffin himself flew into his owner's hands and nestled himself there, as if he wanted to listen, too. Iceland stayed very still, not trusting himself to move. Across the table, Norway's eyes grew wide, and his hands began to shake. He barely noticed when a fairy flew by to ask him if he was okay. Denmark released the letter with his right hand to grab onto his lover's, but even he was becoming a bit twitchy.

When he finally finished reading, Denmark stared at Sweden with disbelieving eyes. "Sealand did all that?

Sweden nodded. "Ask N'r."

Denmark turned to his neighbor. "Is all that really true, Nor? Is it?"

Norway looked up and nodded. "Yes, it is," he replied, his voice quietly and uncharacteristically full of emotion. "You were still out, so you don't remember any of it. He stayed with me whenever Ice had to go. He held my hand in the waiting room and kept telling me that it wasn't my fault." He paused to rub his eyes. "At the time, I didn't believe a damn word he said."

It was difficult to believe. Somehow, Sealand really had found the maturity to stay with Norway, especially whenever Iceland had to go somewhere. With Denmark in the hospital, Sweden and Finland caring for him, and Norway too shaken up to really do anything, the responsibilities of Scandinavia has fallen upon Iceland, and he needed to go to the World Meetings to represent himself and all four of his neighbors. As a result, Iceland's economy was rather shaky, but he was still happy. He was happy that his older brother had been taken care of. Iceland could tell from the moment he and the others had found Denmark near death in that bar that Norway was the one who really needed the help. Mental scars and emotional guilt could not be healed with an IV drip and a bandage.

Suddenly, Iceland spoke up. "I think we can offer Sealand something."

The other Nordics turned to the youngest of them, shaking their heads in disagreement. "Our bosses would never recognize him as a country, no matter how much we begged," Denmark stated, sounding rather rational. "And I don't want to end up on England's hit list. He's still disgusted with me ever since the incident."

"Our fairies would have an all-out war," Norway added, his grip on Denmark's hand tightening.

Sweden shrugged. "M' b'ss l'ts m' h've m' s'n at 'll. W''ldn't g've h'm r'cogn'tion, t'o."

Iceland just smiled. "We don't have to recognize him as an official country, but we have to give him _something_. I can tell based on this letter alone that he doesn't want to be a country for the fame. He just wants to contribute something to the world. We don't have to worry about him having problems either. I'm sure he'd never make drugs legal or have his main export be pornography."

Norway narrowed his eyes. "We're not talking about Netherlands and Japan here, Ice."

"Exactly! And that's why we should do something just for Sealand."

Sweden glanced at the young man. "Wh't d'd ya h've 'n m'nd?"

Iceland just grinned.

* * *

Finland had loved Iceland's plan the moment he had heard it. He, too, could not offer recognition to his son. There were just some things that even Santa couldn't do, but he was still determined to get him something special. That was why all five Nordics decided to gather at Sweden's house to celebrate Christmas that year, as it was where Sealand normally stayed.

On Christmas Eve, Finland performed his yearly duties of delivering presents to the nations of the world, as usual. He made sure to finish early though, as he wanted to get enough sleep so he'd be able to wake up in time for Sealand's surprise. When he finally came home, he quietly put the reindeer and sleigh away and walked into Sweden's house. Sure enough, Sweden was waiting for him with a tray of cookies and milk, which they shared as soon as Finland finished putting his family's presents under the tree.

The next morning, of course, Sealand was the first one awake. "Merry Christmas, Mama, Papa!" he greeted as he ran into his parents' bedroom. Sweden and Finland yawned and stretched, greeting their son back. Excited to get started on the festivities, Sealand yanked on his father's arm and shouted at him to get up. There were presents to be opened!

Once the family was downstairs, Hanatamago included, there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it!" Sealand cheered, rushing towards the front door. He opened it and let his uncles inside, hugging them and greeting them with messages of love and cheer for the holiday. He spoke to each one in his respective language the best he could, all except for Iceland. Volcano names weren't the only words too difficult for the rest of the world to pronounce. Iceland didn't mind. He was just happy that the others had agreed to his plan.

"Good morning, Guys!" Finland greeted. "Merry Christmas! Come inside. I'll get you some coffee."

"No need!" Denmark replied as he hung his coat up in the closet. "We're awake enough with just our excitement. Let's let Sealand open his present."

"Yay!" the boy squealed. "Mama, is that okay?"

Finland smiled sympathetically and nodded, not even scolding his son for calling him "mama." The look of joy on Sealand's face was just too much for him to handle, and his heart jumped at the sight of Sealand and Hanatamago staring up at the Christmas tree with wide, hopeful eyes.

Once everyone sat down, Sweden handed his son his present. "Fer y'u," he said, smiling gently.

Sealand eagerly took the thin, wide box. "Thank you, Papa!"

"D'n't th'nk me. 'cel'nd's idea."

"But we all contributed to it," Iceland added as he sat Puffin down next to him on the rug in front of the tree. "It's from all of us, Sealand. Merry Christmas."

Sealand's eyes twinkled with excitement as he ripped the packaging off a plain, white box. When the box was bare, he opened it up to find an official-looking document inside. "Sealand, Official Junior Country of Scandinavia" was written there in fancy letters. The little boy looked up at his uncles with huge, happy eyes. "You're all acknowledging me as an Official Junior Country? That means I'm almost there to being a real official country, right?"

"Exactly," Finland replied, wrapping his arms around his son. "Unfortunately, our bosses won't recognize you as an official country, but we, your _family_, acknowledge you as one of us."

"So you have to grow up soon and become as awesome as we are, okay?" Denmark joked as he sat down in a nearby armchair with Norway on his lap.

Sealand could have cried tears of joy. "I'm acknowledged!" he announced, nothing but pure bliss lacing his words. "I was a good boy this year, and I'm an Official Junior Country now. This is the best present ever!" Sure enough, little, happy tears fell down his cheeks, and he wiped them away with his pajama sleeve. "I'll make it happen this time. It's been my dream, and I'll become an official country. Don't ask me how or why, but I'll do it, I promise!"

And, somehow, the other Nordics knew he would keep that promise.

_Yes, we live for the fame, fame!_

_Doin' it for the fame, fame!_

_'Cuz we wanna live the life of the rich and famous._

_Fame, fame! Doin' it for the fame, fame!_

_'Cuz we got a taste for champagne and endless fortune._

_Fame, fame, Baby, the fame, fame, in it for the fame, fame, Baby, the fame fame._

_Isn't it a shame, shame, Baby, a shame, shame?_

_In it for the fame, fame, Baby, the fame, fame._

END

Author's Note: Freyju Ris is the Icelandic version of chocolate-covered Rice Krispies. And now I have this feeling of Christmas cheer despite the fact that it's August. XD


	18. DELUXE: Track 8: Money Honey

**Author's Note:** We're back in Gakuen Hetalia! This track takes place during the school year along the "LoveGame" timeline. So this is taking place after Yong-Soo begins the competition but before Ivan graduates and Natalia drops out.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Money Honey**

Vash Zwingli, a trigger-happy junior from Bern, Switzerland, was a surprisingly active student when it came to school events. The year prior, as a sophomore, he had hosted Hetalia Academy's talent show, which had turned out to be a bigger success than he could ever have imagined. He had been worried sick about that show, as he had also been the one in charge of its organization and execution. He would be in charge of the talent show again this year, but he had been signed on for another project first.

"You want me to plan, organize, and raise the funds for the school dance?"

Vash sat in the office of Hetalia Academy's two assistant principals. The one on the left was a large yet handsome man with a mop of brown hair and some stubble on his chin. When he had first come to work at Hetalia Academy years ago, he had insisted that all the students call him "Grandpa Rome" since he was from Rome, Italy. Actually, he was Feliciano and Lovino's grandfather, which explained how the two of them had even been able to get into the prestigious academy in the first place. Neither one was, to put it in the most polite way possible, the sharpest kitchen knife in the drawer.

Next to Grandpa Rome was his best friend and polar opposite. Unlike Grandpa Rome, he had wanted the students to address him by his real name, but Rome had wanted none of that. He called the man "Germania," merely because it was Italian for Germany, where the man was from. Germania was also Gilbert and Ludwig's grandfather, which was why Feliciano had been so excited to meet the German brothers when he began his time at Hetalia Academy the year prior. Unfortunately, Lovino still wanted nothing to do with either of them. He had never been fond of Gilbert, but when Ludwig had entered the school as a freshman, the older Italian brother had thrown a temper tantrum, called Ludwig a "macho potato bastard," and had been suspended for a week. Because of that, Germania didn't think too fondly of Rome's grandchildren, but Rome adored all four boys.

Presently, Rome had a silly grin on his face as he took in Vash's slightly stunned expression. Oh, how he loved interacting with the students and getting them involved! "That talent show you ran last year was such a success," he explained. "I think that you could do something fantastic with the school's dance, too."

Vash shook his head. "The talent show was only good because of the performance Gilbert and his friends did. If they hadn't sung 'Bad Romance,' the talent show would only have been a lukewarm success. If you want the dance to be any good at all, you should call them back. Besides, I know nothing about putting on a dance party."

"Aw, I know you can do it, Vash!" Rome cheered, giving the Swiss boy the thumbs-up. "You're so good at managing money and organizing things that you could put on a fantastic event without bankrupting the school!"

"Is that why you-?"

"OH MY, IT SEEMS I HAVE A MEETING WITH PRINCIPAL HIMARUYA. GOOD-BYE, VASH, YOU'LL DO GREAT."

And he was gone.

For a moment, Vash and Germania just stared at the open door to the vice principals' office. Rome had been there just one second ago, and now he was gone, as if he had never even been in the room in the first place. Heracles then popped his head into the room. "I haven't seen someone...run so fast...since Yong-Soo started...his breast-grabbing game. Grandpa Rome...should come to...my mother's place...for the Olympics, too." Vash and Germania agreed.

Vash then turned back to the second vice principal, scowling. "Did Rome call me here just so he wouldn't have to deal with putting on the dance himself?"

Germania nodded. "Seems so."

"Dammit," Vash groaned as he stood, "this is going to be impossible. I'm no good with parties." He hoisted his backpack up and sighed. "Give me the holiday break to think about this stuff, okay? I need some time to do some calculations to see if we can even afford a dance in the first place, what with the cost of the talent show."

Germania raised an eyebrow. "The talent show is free to put on and free to all students."

"Exactly!" Vash shouted as he left the office. "That's why I need to come up with a way for the students to pay for some of this crap!" He ran down the hallways and towards the school's main exit while Germania just shook his head and sighed. Germany and Switzerland were geographical neighbors, but he, as a German, would never understand the Swiss.

It was a good thing he never said that to Vash, because the Swiss boy was angry coming out of the main building. "I have to find the money for food, entertainment, decorations, plus a good party outfit, because I'm pretty much being forced to go." He listed off all the costs in his head and rubbed his temples. No matter how he looked at things, this dance was going to be expensive, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to attract enough students to pay off the costs. Sighing again, he pulled his handgun from his backpack. "Don't even think about it, Roderich."

The Austrian senior immediately threw his hands behind his back and walked away.

"Vash-san?"

Oh, God, no, not Kiku. It wasn't that Vash didn't like the polite, Japanese senior, but Kiku _never_ spoke his mind, even when directly asked for his opinion. This annoyed Vash to no end, as he always had no problem openly expressing himself. So it was out of cultural norms, not personal taste, that Vash did not like Kiku.

Regardless, he turned to the Asian boy, trying not to appear as exasperated as he really was. "What is it, Kiku? It's Friday afternoon and I want to go home to my sister. Can you make this quick?"

Kiku nodded. "I just heard from Heracles-san that you'll be in charge of funding and organizing the school dance this year."

"Yeah. What of it?"

"If you need some money and ideas, I know someone who can help you."

A lightbulb lit up over Vash's head. His green eyes brightened, and he felt some excitement bubble in the pit of his stomach. A way to make money _and_ get some ideas for the dance? Maybe Kiku wasn't as bad as he thought!

Vash cleared his throat. "Who is it? What does he do?"

Kiku smiled, clearly pleased that the Swiss boy was interested. "A friend of mine from Japan is starting a new business in a nearby area. He wants to bring some Japanese-style entertainment to the West, and he's looking for Westerners interested in helping him. He told me the other day that he needs another person to wait tables for him, and he's prefer it if that someone were male."

"So it's a Japanese restaurant?" Vash asked. He had had his fair share of waiting tables back home in Switzerland. Actually, that had been one of his first jobs as soon as he was old enough to work in his country, so he had plenty of experience in the business. It didn't sound like a bad deal, but there was one question he still needed to ask. "How good is the pay?"

Kiku grinned a bit. "My friend said that not a lot of people can wait tables the way he wants them to, so he's willing to pay a good hourly wage to anyone who can fit what he's looking for. I have a feeling you'll do it for him, Vash-san. My friend really likes Westerners who are good at taking direction and take work seriously. That sounds just like you, Vash-san! And it doesn't hurt that you _look_ very European. My friend is fascinated by Westerners."

The more Vash considered the job, the better it sounded. He, of course, was especially good at taking direction, and he always took every job he had, even the smallest of chores, very seriously. Plus, if what Kiku was saying was correct, the pay should be fantastic, probably well above minimum wage. And there _was_ the fact that it was in a field in which Vash had experience. What could be better?

"Okay, I'm in. When can I meet your friend and begin working?"

* * *

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, HONDA KIKU."

"Aw, but, Vash-san, you look so cute!"

"Cute" was not the word Vash had in mind. He stood in the Employees Only dressing room of the building, which had turned out to be a bar/cafe. He was among many other European boys, all around his age, but, thankfully, recognized none of them. Of course, it would be difficult to recognize anyone underneath the frilly skirts, wigs, and obvious make-up.

Yes, Vash Zwingli, the extremely serious, Type A personality, money-saving, gun-wielding young man from Bern, Switzerland, was standing in the Employees Only section of a drag maid cafe.

In a dress.

And it was the most scandalous little thing, too. It was a baby blue color with puffed sleeves and frills around the hem of the skirt. Vash's arms were bare, and his hands had been manicured to resemble a girl's. The collar of the dress was close to his neck and had a sweet, shiny ribbon tied into a bow at the center. Coving the dress was a white apron covered in frills, and the straps had been tied around a girl's natural waistline into a big, frilly bow. The skirt was short enough that Kiku could see Vash's thighs peeking out from underneath white stockings, which also had frills at the ends where they met skin and two bows, each on the outsides of the thick material. Black, clunky, heeled shoes surrounded his feet and made him stumble clumsily but adorably. He wasn't wearing a wig, but he did have a black hairband with a large, frilly bow peeking out from his blond hair. And he was wearing enough make-up that he looked rather feminine.

Oh yes, he was going to kill Kiku for this, right after he sued this entire country of Japan.

"Why didn't you TELL ME about any of this?" Vash nearly shouted. Yes, he was extremely angry, and he felt betrayed, but he didn't want to make too much of a scene and end up kicked out still in the clothes. "I think that something like this should have been included in the job description!"

Kiku smiled. "If I had told you about it, you would have never agreed to it."

"THAT'S EXACTLY MY POINT."

Kiku mentally thanked _Kami-sama_ that the Japanese language was indirect and roundabout. Because of all his years speaking in such a vague way, he had learned to phrase things to work in his favor when he finally learned English. Westerners were so silly. Any Japanese person would have seen this coming the moment Kiku had begun to speak!

Still smiling, Kiku sighed. "I did tell you that the pay was fantastic though. You have to give me that much at the very least."

Vash went to speak but stopped. Yes, that was true, Kiku _had_ told him about that. And once he had sat down with Kiku's friend and received the actual number he would be earning, there was no going back. That was a beautiful number, probably one of the best he had even seen in relation to his part-time jobs, and he had had a lot. Of course, it would make sense that the number would be high. No man with any sense would agree to this! But, looking around the dressing room, he realized that such a statement was probably incorrect. After all, there were plenty of boys in that room, and they all looked to be enjoying what they were doing. Could this kind of dressing up actually be a hobby among normal people?

"Kiku?" Vash began, this time very calm. "What do you call this kind of dress-up in your country?"

Kiku beamed. "We call it 'cosplay.' It's a mix of the English words 'costume' and 'play.' Lots of fans of anime and manga, whom we call _'otaku,'_ do it. They dress up as their favorite characters. Alfred-san told me recently that the trend has moved to America, where lots of people dress up like their favorite characters from Japanese pop culture as well as American pop culture. In fact, I've heard from lots of kids at school that people all over the world are catching on!"

Vash shrugged. "And it's okay for guys to dress up as girls?"

Kiku nodded. "And girls dress up like guys all the time. That's very common and very normal."

Now this was something to consider. So this was considered normal in some parts of the world? Maybe at certain events, yes. What else could Vash do? As long as nobody recognized him, he figured he was okay. And, of course, the pay was absolutely fantastic. Maybe if he got good tips, he'd have enough money to start preparing for Hetalia Academy's dance.

"We're opening in just a few moments!" came the voice of Kiku's friend. "I need all of you out and ready to go!"

The boys called back to him in agreement and filed out of the room, ready to serve their customers for the night. Kiku pat Vash on the back and assured him that he'd do a great job before running out to the exit. Vash audibly gulped and looked back to the group of boys, following them slowly. Well, at least he wasn't wearing leather or a corset or some strange sex costume. No, he was just a naughty version of Heidi from his homeland. Wonderful. Just perfect.

As soon as Vash walked into the main cafe area, the world seemed to explode around him. The drag queens (Oh, _God_, that was a bad way to put it, according to Vash.) poured drinks for the customers and took their orders for snacks while J-pop and J-rock music blared from the overhead speakers and lights flashed across the floor. Vash cringed and tried to hold himself together. He was getting paid well for this, dammit! _Suck it up, Zwingli,_ he reminded himself. _You can do this. It's not like anyone you know is here._ He looked up, took a deep breath, and nearly stopped dead in his tracks.

_RODERICH!_

Vash didn't want to trust his eyes, but he had no choice. Sitting at one of the tables was none other than Roderich Edelstein of Austria, the single heir in a rich, aristocratic family from the country's capital Vienna. He didn't seem to feel out of place at all in the bar, as he was still dressed as formally and fashionably as he did at school. Plus, he didn't seem to be too interested in the maids.

_Okay, maybe he won't even notice me. Maybe I can just stay away from his table throughout the whole shift. Yeah, I just won't offer service to him! Someone else can get his table!_

And then Vash remembered that, among his tables, he had been assigned to Roderich's table.

Vash was going to kill Kiku _very slowly_ and _very painfully_.

Just then, Roderich looked up and smiled. "Good evening!" he called. "I'd like to place an order!"

Vash just about panicked internally but tried to keep his cool externally. _Just take his order, give it to him, and take his money. Don't linger on it!_ He walked to the Austrian boy's table the best he could in those awkward heels and managed a smile. "Yes, may I help you?" he said in his sweetest voice, which he audibly had to strain to achieve.

"I'd like a cup of tea, no alcohol," the customer replied, "and a small slice of strawberry cake." Vash nodded, took the order, and went to retrieve said items when Roderich continued, "Then will you join me for tea? I could use some company this evening."

Vash could have sworn the subtitles of that statement read, "I see you as nothing but a common whore," but he decided to ignore it. His brain was already spinning from the frills of his tight apron, the blinding lights from the ceiling, and the fact that _Roderich Edelstein_ of all people was ordering tea and cake in a drag maid bar/cafe. His poor brain couldn't handle anything else at the time; all of that was already putting an unnecessary strain on his sanity. He had to keep reminding himself of the pay.

After a few minutes, Vash returned to Roderich's table with the tea and cake. He set them down wordlessly and then sat down next to the Austrian, wishing for nothing more than to fall into a hole and die. He teetered on edge at what Roderich would say, if he would recognize him, but the questions started out simple enough. "Are you from around here?"

"Switzerland," Vash replied, trying his best to mask his voice.

Roderich smiled. "I know someone at school who's from Switzerland. We used to be friends a long time ago, when we were in elementary school, but we broke apart during middle school."

Vash knew what he was saying. It was true. He and Roderich had been best friends when they had been little. Switzerland and Austria were geographical neighbors, and Vash had not minded temporarily living in Austria just so he could go to school with his Austrian friend. He started wondering how they had fallen apart in the first place.

Roderich didn't seem to be recognizing him, so Vash dared to ask. "Why aren't you friends anymore?"

Roderich shrugged and laughed pathetically. "I don't even remember anymore. We had a silly fight and just stopped talking to each other. It's so sad. I'd love to be friends with him again. At my school, Hetalia Academy, one of the students started this game where we have to grab a person's chest to 'claim' that person. The only reason I did it to him was because...I thought it might give me a chance to get close to him again, literally and figuratively."

Vash didn't know what to say except, "Good luck." He looked at Roderich sadly and stood. "Would you like more tea?"

Roderich looked up at him and shook his head, smiling. "No, thank you. Just the check. But I do want to thank you for listening to me. I've been needing to tell someone about this for a while, just to get it off my chest." He winked. "And you're very cute, which helps."

Vash blushed a bit but smiled nonetheless. "I'll bring you the check in just a moment." He turned and headed for the register, ignoring the other customers and maids working around him."

_It's not about the money,_ he told himself as he added the total. _I love money. I'd love to live expensively and have champagne every day on a private boat. I can appreciate the finer things, but...they don't make me happy. When I go back to school...I have to talk to Roderich._ He brought the check back to the table, but Roderich was already gone. Just when he was about to say something, Vash looked down to see that the Austrian had left a large amount of Euros along with a note that said, "Keep the change."

In the back of the bar, Kiku held his camera and smiled. "Mission accomplished," he said to himself, looking down at his camera, which was full of photos of Roderich and Vash together. "This is the best day of my life." He pressed the "back" button while in memory mode, and his eyes widened at the photo of Feliciano and Ludwig he had there. He blushed bright red and whispered, "No, _THAT_ was the best day of my life..."

* * *

When the students filed back into Hetalia Academy at the end of their break, Vash immediately headed for the vice principals' office with several rolled-up posters in his arms. "I figured out what I'm doing for the dance," he told Germania, as Rome hadn't even shown up for work yet. Germania nodded and sent him on his way so he could continue to receive attendance records from the teachers that morning.

Vash headed out of the office and walked down the main entrance hallway. It was still early in the morning, so students were just starting to walk into the building. It was the perfect place to start. He set down the posters and pulled one of them up onto the wall while trying to rip off a piece of tape.

"Need help?"

Vash looked to his side to see Roderich, who was motioning towards the poster. "I'm not here to grab your chest, I promise!"

"Yeah," Vash replied quietly, handing the tape dispenser to the senior, "could you put a piece here and here?" He pointed to the areas and thanked Roderich once he was done. Vash smiled. This was nice. They could start over, starting with this very poster for the school dance.

But it was what was on the poster that made Vash confident they could get back together as friends. The excited cheers and squeals coming from the students behind them were nice, too.

HETALIA ACADEMY'S ANNUAL SPRING DANCE

THIS YEAR:

**THE MONSTER BALL**

COME IN YOUR GAGA BEST!

_It's good to live expensive, you know it,_

_But my knees get weak, intensive._

_When you give me k-kisses, that's money, Honey._

_When I'm your lover and your mistress, that's money, Honey._

_When you touch me, it's so delicious, that's money, Honey._

_Baby, when you tear me to pieces, that's money, Honey._

_That's M-O-N-E-Y, so sexy, ah..._

END


	19. DELUXE: Track 9: Starstruck

**Author's Note:** I have exciting news! Recently, I found an amazing video on YouTube that featured Hetalia artwork along with the intro to a Lady GaGa concert. The creator was nice enough to let me use her vid as an intro vid for _The Hetalian Monster_ and _The Hetalian Fame_. It's called "Haus of Hetalia" by madhorsegal. Here's a link (take the parentheses out please):

http:(/)www(.)youtube(.)com(/)watch?v(=)1jjob5HZR7E

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Starstruck**

_That little bugger better be appreciative of all this. I've already given him way too much as it is._

England watched from the airplane window as thousands of American fans, guys and girls alike, screamed and cheered at the arrival of The Beatles. The four band mates waved to their international fans, thanking them for their warm greeting and support. It was obvious to England that they were happy to be there, but the nation himself wasn't feeling too much of the love.

He could see America from that window, and he did not like how the lad cheered along with his citizens. He was acting as if nothing was wrong, as if the arrival of the British rock band was the most natural, most anticipated event ever. He looked positively starstruck. England rolled his eyes and sneered. This was just like what had happened all those years ago, when he had first arrived on the vast, untouched American plains.

England could still remember the look in America's eyes when the boy had first set his sights on him. There was something in those bright, blue orbs, as bright and blue as the glorious sky above them, that said to England, "You're amazing and I completely trust you." There had been a sparkle that was now gone, and England hated the fact that he would never see it again. That little shine had been so precious and beautiful that he had wanted America never to grow up, just so he could see it for years to come.

But that didn't happen. Of course it couldn't have happened. There was just no way for America to stay small forever. No, England had sensed it the moment he had seen the boy. The child called America was destined for greatness, possibly to be even greater than he, and there was nothing he could do about it.

England turned his attention back to the crowd of fans. Well, at least they had decent taste in music. England himself had to admit that some of America's music wasn't half-bad either. In the decade prior, the 1950s, had been a fantastic decade for music, and some of those influences had made their way to Great Britain. With just a few little tweaks, England's own music scene exploded, and now he was serving the Americans back their own recipe with just a few personal additions.

But the past still rang out loud and clear in England's head. He couldn't get past it, and he figured he never would. Quietly, he closed his eyes and thought back. Back to the time of his greatest happiness. Back to the time of a simple, content life. Back before radios and televisions and telephones and automobiles and whatever else those silly inventors could think up. Back before complications.

Back when _he_ had been the one starstruck.

_"What do you think,_ amigo_? Isn't he just adorable?"_

_England looked down at the child in Spain's arms and smiled a bit. "Yes, he's very cute, Spain. Where did you find him?"_

_"The New World!" the Spaniard cried happily, his cheeks turning bright pink and eyes gleaming with excitement. "Some of my men sailed over there a few years ago and found lots of great things for my boss and his wife. So I went over there myself, and I found this little bundle of joy! His name is Mexico!" He held the child up and out so England could get a better look at him, but the child didn't seem too interested in either man. In fact, he munched on his churro as his eyes looked in just about every direction other than at England._

_"Huh," England mumbled, "good for you. Don't drown the kid in sherry, okay?" In all honesty, England was happy for Spain, but he would never show it. He had heard stories about the New World, too, and he wanted a piece of the action. The fact that Spain had already been there bothered him. And what kind of "great things" had he found? He wanted some great things, too!_

_"I'm going to head back on the ship soon, so I can return this little guy to his homeland," Spain continued as he brought Mexico back into his arms. "Then I'm going to keep looking for land south of his territory. There has to be something else there, too. Maybe I'll find him a little brother or sister!" Spain smiled brightly and turned to head back home, little Mexico still wrapped securely in his arms. "_Adios_, I shall let you know if I find anyone!"_

_Okay, now the Spaniard was just plain mocking him. This was personal._

_"Well, I'll just go over to the New World and see what I can find for myself!"_

_"What did I hear you say, _mon petit lapin_?"_

_"Oh, bloody hell..."_

_

* * *

_

_"I just want to make it clear that I'm not sharing whatever I find with you."_

_"That is quite alright, _Angleterre_, I can take care of myself."_

_England groaned as he rolled up his sleeves and stuck his hands into the cold water beneath him. He and his men had arrived in the New World a few days ago, and there was still no sign of anybody living there. Other than the natives, he could find nobody, no nations. It disturbed him. Spain had found one and was probably finding more as the time passed. To make matters worse, France had tagged along on his little adventure, in hopes of finding his own new colony._

_But neither one had realized just how late the English and French had arrived. Netherlands and his men were already there. Not only that, but they had been there for YEARS, and they were snatching up every little territory they could. When England had confronted Netherlands, the Dutchman had just continued to smoke his pipe without much of a reply._

_"Tell me how you got here without the rest of us knowing, you wanker!" England had shouted at him, face red with frustration. As soon as he got back to London, he was going to cast a spell on this druggie._

_Netherlands had averted England's gaze. "Secret," he had muttered. He had then taken another long drag on his pipe and walked off towards the camp he and his men had made._

_The response, needless to say, had driven England bonkers, and the fact that France was the only one there to comfort him didn't help at all. No, "comfort" was the wrong word. England didn't there could even be a word to describe anything France did to him. Phrases like "annoying twit" and "bloody nuisance" didn't even begin to cover it._

_And, if the early arrival of Netherlands hadn't been enough, Sweden and Finland were there, too. England didn't particularly dislike either of them, but that didn't mean he liked either one or both. Finland was way too much of a crybaby whenever Netherlands beat him up, and Sweden...was just a mystery. England could swear he could count the number of words the large Nordic had ever said to him on one hand._

_So it wasn't welcome when Finland ran over to the river with tears in his eyes. "Guys, hear me out!" he begged England and France as he sat down and rubbed the bruise on his forehead. "I'm really scared and I need to tell someone about what I've seen."_

_France had just stuck his hands into the water when Finland arrived. "What? Did Netherlands beat you up again?"_

_"HE DID NOT!"_

_Finland covered his mouth quickly and shook his head, hating the untrusting stares from the other nations. "Okay, so he did," he confessed as he brought his hands away, "but that's hardly the problem here. I'm talking about something else." He rubbed his eyes of the tears before he continued. "This little boy mysteriously shows up sometimes. I don't know what to do with him!"_

_"He comes towards you and Sweden?" France asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No way! If he's attracted to you guys, then that means...!"_

_England gasped. Here he was at last. Finally, there had been a nation sighting! He mentally thanked God that the boy had not gone with Finland os Sweden. It also seemed safe to assume that Netherlands had not found him yet. Now all he needed to do was find the kid before France did!_

_"Finland!" he shouted. "Take us to him!"_

_

* * *

_

_There was no doubt that the boy was a nation. He was beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale. That smooth, healthy skin, those big, blue eyes, that shiny, light brown hair...He was unlike anything England had ever seen. Those eyes looked up at him with no fear. In fact, they looked up at him with pure love and respect. He received a sweet smile as a greeting, not some protest or harsh word. It was perfect. He was perfect. There was no other country in the world like he. It took everything England had not to snatch him up right there and take him back to Europe to show off to Spain. He wanted him. He wasn't going to stop until he had him. He didn't care what he had to do to France. In fact, he would do anything to France! This was just another excuse to kick his ass!_

_He was, to put it as simply as possible, starstruck._

_"Hello there," the boy said politely. "Who are you?"_

_England snapped back to reality. "I'm the man who will be in charge of you from now on!" he declared, pointing to the child. "So you better do everything I say!"_

_"Okay!"_

_"Okay"? "Okay"? England repeated the word over and over in his head. This kid was really okay with him being in charge? "Aren't you scared?" he asked._

_The boy shook his head. "No, lately I've been learning a lot about myself. Like my name! I'm America but I have a feeling that that will only be a nickname one day. I think I'm going to get a big, fancy name soon! So what about you? Should I just call you 'big brother'?"_

_"Big Brother?" This, too, repeated in England's head. He was a big brother to the most adorable, most perfect little boy in the world! It was too good to be true; it had to be! He had to be dreaming. Pinch...No, that didn't work. He was still in the New World, within America's territory. He could have screamed out in joy. He wasn't dreaming!"_

_But that still seemed to be too much. "No, you can just call me 'England'," he said gently. "So, America, what else can you tell me about yourself?"_

_

* * *

_

_When France found out that England had found America first, he was not pleased. He and England fought it out from there, making poor America cry. England just about had enough when France started to bribe the kid with food, but it didn't matter. America still chose to stay with England anyway, much to the Brit's delight._

_Even though America was very small when England had found him, the boy was growing rapidly. He had a bottomless appetite and could stomach British food, even more to England's delight. Fed a healthy diet of fish and chips, the kid would be big and strong in no time!_

_France was not amused...at any of it. In fact, just after he had lost America to England, he ran off. "I'll go find my own colony then!" he had shouted as he ran north. "Just you wait. He'll be even BETTER than that stupid America kid!"_

_To the rest of the world's surprise, France had indeed found someone. "Look what I've got, stupid Brit!" he shouted one day as he slammed the front door to America's house open. England set the fish and chips down for the boy at the dinner table and looked up, unimpressed until he saw what was tucked under France's arm. It was a boy!_

_"You found another nation all the way up north?" he asked, not believing his eyes._

_France laughed triumphantly. "I told you I would! Behold!" He held the child out for England to see. All England could think was how much like America he looked, but France took his expression for awe and continued, "His name is...?"_

_"Canada, Papa," said the little boy._

_"Yeah, that's right!" France realized. "Canada! That's it!"_

_England bit his lip. This was not good. He, Spain, and France each had a huge chunk of the New World now, which obviously meant more fights for territory later on. Once the rest of Europe heard about this...Oh boy, he did NOT want to think about that. But there was one way to stop at least some of the fighting._

I'll take Canada for myself,_ he thought, _no matter what.

_"France! Is that you?" came the sound of Spain's voice. France settled Canada back into his arms and turned to see Spain holding little Mexico near the doorway. England rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. Spain was probably going to say something stupid about the other nations he had most likely found. This wasn't what England needed right now._

_But, surprisingly, such words never came. "Aw, he's so cute!" Spain practically squealed. "You found yourself a perfect little brother, England. I'm jealous. Say hi to America, Mexico!" Mexico didn't say anything; he just continued to chomp on his churro. But it didn't matter to Spain. "Aw, you act like my little Romano."_

_France suddenly grinned. "Heh...Romano..." His cheeks turned bright pink._

_Spain angrily turned towards him. "Don't even think about it! Romano is mine!"_

_"I don't know why you want him to remain yours so badly," England interrupted as he sat down across from America with his own plate of fish and chips. He noticed that the boy was already almost done with his meal. "I hear he just keeps using you."_

_A small, sad smile graced Spain's face. "Yes, he does but I don't care," he replied. "I'll do anything for him. He can use me all he wants."_

_England rolled his eyes. "Bloody fool."_

_America suddenly slapped his palms down on the table. "England!" he cheered, giggling loudly. "I want more of your delicious cooking! Another plate please!" He held his empty plate up, so proud that he had finished every bite._

_That pride was just one of the things England loved about America. This child...he was so precious. He would never let him go. He would never give him up. He would fight France and Spain for thousands of years if it meant he could hang on to America. He suddenly didn't care about the land or territories anymore. All he wanted was to make fish and chips for this boy every day for the rest of his life._

_He silently wished he'd remain this starstruck forever and agreed to America's demand for more food._

"IGGY!" came a grown-up America's voice. England's eyes snapped open, and he looked out the window to see the young man still cheering outside. "Come on, Iggy! Come out already! You gotta be here with your band!"

After a moment, England smiled and stood. He headed out of the plane and climbed down the steps, only to be greeted with a huge hug from America himself. It was over in a moment, but America was still clinging to his arm, cheering like a teenage girl.

"This is awesome, Iggy, thank you so much for bringing The Beatles to me!" he squealed. "I can't believe they're actually here. Oh, my God, it's crazy! I'm so _starstruck_!"

England went to say something but stopped. Instead, he just smile and turned towards the crowd of America fans as they cried out for the British band before them. It felt good to be so welcomed again. No, it felt better than good. It was _wonderful_. He closed his eyes and listened to America and his people. It was just like that time so many years ago all over again. Time had not changed his reaction to America at all.

Every time he saw him happy, no matter how many years passed, he would still be starstruck.

_Groove. Slam. Work it back. Filter that._

_Baby, bump that track._

_Groove. Slam. Work it back. Filter that._

_Baby, bump that track._

_Groove. Slam. Work it back._

_Space Cowboy, just play that track._

_GaGa in the room._

_So starstruck, cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry, boom, boom._

END


	20. DELUXE: Track 10: Boys, Boys, Boys

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Boys, Boys, Boys**

"I am so mad at the male population of the world that I could just scream!"

"Aw, Tai, you don't mean that."

Taiwan glared at Vietnam, her eyes dark and serious. The two girls sat in a bar in Hanoi, two small, fruity drinks before them. Taiwan gripped hers dangerously tight and tried not to shake. Vietnam took notice and rolled her eyes. Seriously, her sister Asian nation could be so uptight sometimes.

"I mean every word I said!" said nation squeaked, her cheeks bright pink. "Seriously, I hate them all so much right now, especially our brother nations. They're always off doing stupid crap and never listening to a damn word I say! Don't they know that I'm only lecturing them for their own good? If I didn't, I don't know what would happen to them."

"But they choose to ignore you anyway," Vietnam sighed, smiling pathetically. She knew it was futile to start arguing with Taiwan, but once the girl was hung-up on something, there was no stopping her from ranting until the sun dawned the next day.

And her words did nothing to deter Taiwan. "Exactly! That's why I'm so angry at them!"

Vietnam shook her head. The bar was relatively quiet, seeing as it was a weekend night, so she was thankful that few people could witness the minor meltdown. She glanced at a few of the people walking by and tried not to look back at Taiwan, but she still spoke anyway. "First of all, if you know they're going to annoy you, you shouldn't even bother." She sighed and waited to see if Taiwan would reply, but she was silent. Sensing it was okay to continue, she said, "But you've already started, so I guess there's no point in trying to reverse it."

"I hate it..."

"Just rant to me then." Vietnam picked up her glass and took another drink, loving the mix of tropical flavors and alcohol on her tongue. She smiled both at the party in her mouth and at the stunned reaction she got from Taiwan. "I'm serious. Just start talking. I'll listen to everything you have to say. You don't even have to wait for next month's Dance in the Dark."

"I could use some of Hungary's advice right now," Taiwan nearly sobbed. "I just don't know what to do."

Vietnam could have smacked her...lovingly, mind you. "I just gave you an option! Rant to me! Look, I know I'm not a gold mine of advice, and I've had my fair share of epic shit, but I'll listen to you, okay? So just start talking."

Taiwan looked up at the girl in disbelief. "You promise you'll listen?" she asked, really wanting to be sure. When Vietnam nodded, she nodded back and began to talk.

"Okay, here's what happened over the past few days..."

**_China_**

_"Wanna hang out with me at a show, aru?"_

_Taiwan looked up to see China standing next to her. She continued to sip on her bubble tea and made no sign of getting up, though her eyes were wide and disbelieving. It didn't help that China was wearing concert wear, though it wasn't as crazy as some of the things Japan's people wore. Still, it was surprising to see China this way, especially because he was so traditional._

_"What kind of show?" Taiwan finally asked as she set her tea down on the cafe table. The sun was setting behind her, so she was pretty sure that if she agreed, she'd be out for most of the night. Regardless, she was definitely intrigued._

_China smiled. "A pop music show, aru! Some of my singers are performing their new songs."_

_Taiwan smirked. "And I take it that's why you're also covered in body glitter?"_

_"You know it. I picked up the trend from some of America's pop singers."_

_The girl stood, satisfied. "Well, as long as I don't have to wear it." She hooked her arm around China's and let him guide her down to the outdoor area where thousands of young fans gathered. Some of them were wearing clothes that were indeed just about as crazy as those of Japan's people, but she couldn't keep her eyes of China. He looked just so appetizing like this, looking so modern._

_Without a warning, Taiwan stood on her tip-toes and placed a kiss on China's cheek. The man flushed bright red and turned his head towards her. "What...what was that for, aru?"_

_"Just wanted to kiss you," the girl laughed cutely. "And you know what?"_

_"What, aru?"_

_"You taste just like glitter mixed with rock and roll."_

_China smirked back to her. It was obvious that he was very satisfied with that answer. "That's exactly what I was going for." He bent down to return the gesture and smiled. "And you're just plain glamorous. So much better than all these people dancing all crazy, aru."_

_Taiwan giggled and then sighed quietly. "But I don't want to be out all night, okay? Let's go back home in a few hours."_

_"...Why?"_

_"Because I worry about you! You're the oldest of us all and...!"_

_China rolled his eyes. "Look, I know I'm over four thousand years old, but I'm not going to keel over from a little pop concert."_

_"Oh, I give up!"_

**_Japan_**

_Taiwan would know that car anywhere. The shiny, dark purple exterior was nearly blinding, even from where she stood at the window. Japan had come to visit her, and it looked like he had had a stressful day._

_Taiwan opened the front door of her home before Japan even had the opportunity to knock. "What's the matter?" she asked kindly. "I know you normally don't like to express yourself, but I can tell that you need to say something."_

_Japan looked off to the side, embarrassed, refusing to meet the girl's eyes. "I can't find anyone to go drinking with," he admitted. "Everyone is busy. Want to go?"_

_Taiwan sighed. She already knew where this was going._

_"Alright."_

_Oh, what an evening at a bar with Japan could be like._

_"America just kept asking me if he could borrow my gaaaaaaaaaaames!" the man whined as he downed another shot of sake. "He has his own games he can plaaaaaaay. I dun see whyyy he has to borrow mine..."_

_Taiwan stared at Japan, unimpressed. "I thought you were going to tell me something that ruined your day. You said that while you were driving over here. Speaking of which, it looks like I'm driving home tonight."_

_"And he keeeeeps wanting to borrow my caaaaaaaars..." Japan continued, obviously far too drunk to even care about what Taiwan was saying anymore. "Guh, I dun wanna go hooooome. I wanna keep drinking and listen to _enka_ music..." He filled his own shot glass, not really caring that it was a sign of bad manners, and downed the drink. By that point, his speech was so slurred that Taiwan could barely understand what he was saying anymore._

_Finally, she had had enough. "I'm taking you back to my place," she announced, throwing Japan's arm over her shoulder. "Geez, I should not be paying for drinks and driving you home. You're going to drown yourself in sake one of these days, you know that?"_

_"Guh..."_

**_South Korea_**

_"Let's go see The Killers, da ze!"_

_Taiwan smacked her palms against her head. Not South Korea. Anyone but him. "I'm in no mood," she muttered as her head dropped. "China and Japan have driven me insane enough this week as it is. I don't need to add you to that formula. And who the hell are The Killers anyway?"_

_"An American band that originated in Korea!"_

_Of course. Why had she even bothered asking?_

_"No," she said firmly, turning back to her laptop. "I don't want to go out tonight. Go see them yourself."_

_"But they're in Seoul for one night only, and it's boring to go alone, da ze! Look, I even got these awesome new sneakers for the show!" South Korea pointed his feet out so Taiwan could see, but he got no reaction. Frustrated, he turned and stormed out of the house. "Fine then! I'll go get China and his breasts to see them with me, da ze! And we'll make out in the bleachers!" And he slammed the door._

_Taiwan instantly looked up and ran to the door. She opened it and shouted, "How the hell did you get into my house in the first place?"_

_"Heh, I'm such a bad boy. That psycho north of me never has any idea what hits him~"_

_"YOU CROSSED THE BORDER INTO NORTH KOREA'S TERRITORY? Are you trying to KILL YOURSELF?"_

_"Hey, he originated in me, da ze!"_

_Taiwan seriously feared for that boy and the rest of Asia's future._

**_Hong Kong_**

_"I'm going to Macau's place this weekend. Want to come?"_

_Taiwan looked up, flabbergasted. "To do WHAT?" she nearly cried. The moment the question left her mouth, she realized that she didn't want to know._

_"Gamble."_

_Yup. That was what she had been afraid of._

_"You shouldn't be going over there," she asserted, crossing her arms. She stood in the doorway of her home and nodded to herself. "Before you know it, you're going to spend every last bit of currency you've got. Gambling is a bad, addictive thing!"_

_Hong Kong didn't reply; he just kept staring at the girl with those same emotionless eyes._

_"And are you even old enough to get into a casino?"_

_He turned and walked away, ignoring the girl's shouting._

_Taiwan cringed. China, Japan, South Korea, and now Hong Kong...It was too much!_

_"I am so sick of testosterone right now."_

_And, in that moment, she decided something._

**_Thailand_**

_Slowly, Taiwan blinked the morning light into her eyes. She stretched luxuriously and turned to her side to see a plate of eggs waiting for her on the nightstand. Smiling, she sat up in bed and yawned as she reached for the plate._

_"Oh, you're awake!"_

_Thailand stood in the doorway of his guest bedroom and grinned. "I was just about to wake you. Eat that and then get dressed so I can bring you to the airport, okay?"_

_Taiwan loved Thailand in moments like these. He had been generous enough to allow his Asian sister to spend the night at his house on her way to Vietnam's place. There had been no direct flight to Hanoi available, so she had opted to stop in Bangkok, and Thailand was more than happy to provide her a place to sleep. Taiwan mentally noted to repay him next time he needed to travel._

_"By the way," Thailand continued, "those pajamas are cute."_

_Taiwan smiled through a mouthful of eggs. "Aw, thank you," she replied as soon as she swallowed. "I just got them. They're good for the summertime."_

_"I'll say," the man agreed. "You've got cute legs."_

_Okay, now he was just plain flirting with her. It was so cute that Taiwan couldn't even think up a response. Instead, she just turned back to the plate of eggs, finished her meal, and stood. "I'll get dressed and be downstairs in just a minute. You sure you don't mind taking me to the airport?"_

_"Not a problem!" Thailand assured her, still smiling. "I'll be waiting downstairs."_

_At least one of her brothers was sane._

Vietnam stared at Taiwan once her rant was finally over. "What the hell?" she managed to ask. "You're complaining about all that?"

"STUPID BOYS!"

"I think you're the stupid one."

"...Wha?"

Vietnam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "First China offers to take you out to a pop music concert. Then Japan gives you a ride in one of his famous cars and buys you a drink. South Korea offers to take you to a one night only concert. Hong Kong then asks if you want to go to Macau, only one of the most luxurious places in Asia." She paused and shook her head. "What the hell is wrong with you, Taiwan? I would flip at the chance to do that kind of stuff! The only male attention I get is American tourists wanting to see war sites!"

Taiwan smacked her head down on the bar table. "The only decent one is Thailand, I swear."

The mood noticeably lightened when Vietnam smiled gently. "That may be true, but the rest of those guys offered to do stuff with you because they want you to have fun. If they didn't think about you, they wouldn't give you all these opportunities to have a good time."

Taiwan rubbed her eyes as realization sank in. She had never thought of it that way before, so Vietnam's words left quite an impact. She looked up at her sister nation and frowned. "I just worry about them because I want them all to be okay..."

Vietnam's smile widened. "I know you do," she replied, "and they worry for you, too. Trust me." She lifted her drink from the bar and held it out towards her friend. "To our boys."

Somehow, Taiwan found the strength to smile, lift her head, and hold up her drink. She clinked the glasses together and sighed, content.

"We love them."

_I like you a lot, lot._

_All we want is hot, hot!_

_Boys, boys, boys!_

_We like boys in cars._

_Boys, boys, boys!_

_Buy us drinks in bars._

_Boys, boys, boys!_

_With hairspray and denim, boys, boys, boys..._

_We love them!_

END

**Author's Note:** Macau is a territory of China's much like Hong Kong, which is famous for its gambling, very much like Monaco. And _enka_ is a kind of Japanese music that became popular after World War II. Businessmen usually listen to it while drinking. It tends to be very sad and overly dramatic, expressing sorrows and troubles.


	21. DELUXE: Track 11: Paper Gangsta

**Author's Note:** We're back in Gakuen Hetalia! This picks up where "Money Honey" left off.

And now, as a crazy fangirl and Little Monster, I have to praise GaGa for her RECORD-BREAKING THIRTEEN VMA NOMINATIONS and her RECORD-BREAKING EIGHT TOTAL WINS INCLUDING VIDEO OF THE YEAR! 8D Poland is currently wearing the most outrageous pink dress and squealing on his pony, true fact. XD So from Poland, the rest of the _Hetalian Monster_ and _Hetalian Fame_ cast, and myself, CONGRATULATIONS, MOTHER MONSTER, WE LOVE YOU!

And, if that wasn't awesome enough, THE NEW ALBUM TITLE IS OUT. Little Monsters, we were all BORN THIS WAY. Before any of you ask, yes, I do already have ideas for stories, merely based on the five seconds of song I heard during GaGa's acceptance speech. And once the new album is released, check it back with me, because I'll have a new album up, too: BORN THIS HETALIAN WAY.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Paper Gangsta**

"Ve, Ludwig, would you go to the spring dance with me?"

Ludwig looked up from his textbook and adjusted his reading glasses, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. "You want me to go to the dance with you?" he repeated, his voice a bit unsure. Truth be told, he hadn't even considered going to the dance at all. He hadn't gone last year as a freshman, so he had automatically decided he wouldn't go this year. Plus, the theme was just ridiculous. As soon as he had heard of what Vash had decided on, he had immediately cursed his brother and his idiot friends.

But now, here he was, sitting in Hetalia Academy's library on a Friday afternoon, studying like any other straight A, perfect GPA student, with his Italian boyfriend asking him to go with him to the school's Lady GaGa-themed dance. Ludwig immediately put this situation under his (long) list of awkward moments with Feliciano Vargas, right after having his chest groped earlier during the school year. Gilbert was STILL laughing at him about that, and Ludwig was DEFINITELY going to get back at Yong-Soo for starting that stupid game in the first place.

After another moment of silence, Ludwig sighed. "Fine, I'll go with you."

Feliciano's eyes brightened with joy. "Oh, thank you so much, Ludwig!" He wrapped his arms around the German's shoulders and hugged him tightly. "We'll have so much fun, ve. We can even go in matching outfits if you want!"

"Oh, hell no," Ludwig immediately shot back, pushing the Italian away. "I just said that I would go to the dance with you. I didn't say I would dress up."

Feliciano frowned. "You're no fun," he muttered, half-joking, half-serious. He looked down at the table covered in textbooks and papers and smiled sadly. "Like right now. You shouldn't be studying on a Friday afternoon! You have the whole weekend to do homework. On Fridays after school, you should go out and do fun things!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "I'd like to keep decent grades, thank you very much, and that means I have to study as often as I can."

"Now I really know that you need to go to the dance!" Feliciano insisted, pushing a stack of closed textbooks aside so he could sit on the table. "You need to loosen up, ve. Let's go to the arcade or rent a movie or make some pizza for dinner tonight. Or we could do all three!" He smiled brightly, hoping the German would agree. When he got no response, he smirked. "Or we could just...stay in bed for the rest of the night."

Ludwig knew there was no way he was going to get out of this one. In one way or another, he was going to end up abandoning his studies to give the Italian the attention he craved. It wasn't that he wanted to ignore Feliciano, but he did wish that the boy could pay attention to the more important things sometimes.

Regardless, Ludwig sighed. "Let me stay here in the library and study for another hour, okay? And then we can go back to my house."

Feliciano nearly squealed at the top of his lungs, but Ludwig shushed him and reminded him that they were in a library. "Aw, there's no one here except Eduard, and he's probably in the math and computers section, ve!" He got up from the table and pushed Ludwig's chair out, which the German immediately stopped.

"What are you doing?"

"Can I sit on your lap while I wait for you to finish?"

Ludwig was about to shout out a rejection, but the look in his boyfriend's eyes stopped him. Feliciano looked so desperate for even just a little bit of attention. What kind of boyfriend would he be to deny such a simple request? "As long as you're quiet and don't move around too much."

"Ve, thank you, Ludwig," Feliciano replied as he sat down on the German's leg. He immediately cuddled up to him and closed his eyes, smiling. These were the moments he loved, when he could just enjoy Ludwig's company. He didn't mind when no words were spoken, usually because the situation, much like this one, didn't need words. He just breathed in his boyfriend's scent and relaxed. He loved the way Ludwig smelled, a mix of beer, bratwurst, and aftershave from his morning shower. It was so comforting. And here they were, all alone in the academy's library, Feliciano ready to take a short siesta while Ludwig continued to read from his world politics textbook. Peaceful. Perfect.

But things weren't always this peaceful or perfect. As he began to fall asleep, Feliciano thought back to their time as freshmen the year prior, when nothing had been worked out yet. To that one day one year ago...

_"He's all yours, Feli. West needs to get laid. Damn, I need to put this on my blog, pronto."_

_"YAAAAAY!"_

_"_BRUDER_!"_

_Gilbert watched in unrestrained amusement as the Italian dragged Ludwig down the hall towards his bedroom. "You'll thank me for it later, West!" he called as he closed his bedroom door. He walked back to his boom box and started the CD up again, playing it extra loudly so his brother and Feliciano could hear through the walls._

_"Aw, that was nice of your _fratello_," Feliciano laughed as he shut Ludwig's bedroom door behind him. "I like this song, ve! Lady GaGa is of Italian descent, you know." He giggled and pushed the German towards his bed, something of a mischievous glint in his eye._

_Ludwig was panicking. His cheeks were bright red, and sweat was forming on his forehead. "_NEIN_! _NEIN_!" he shouted, pushing the Italian away and sitting up on his bed. "Hell no, Feliciano, there is no way we're doing this." He panted heavily for a few seconds and mentally cursed his brother with everything he had. No, wait, he had to curse Feliks. He was the one who had given him that damn CD in the first place!_

_When Ludwig looked up, he was greeted by an almost hurt look on Feliciano's face. The little Italian looked like he was about to cry, but, surprisingly, no tears fell. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Why don't you want to be with me, Ludwig?"_

_The German blushed again. "I'm not going to have sex with you just because my idiot _bruder_'s CD made you horny!" he snapped, pushing Feliciano away again. "If you need to get out some sexual frustration, go do it with someone else."_

_"...What?"_

_"You heard what I said!" Ludwig shouted, standing. "Unlike you Italians, I don't jump on the first thing I see. I'd rather my first time be with someone I, you know, love!" He went to stomp out of his room, but Feliciano grabbed his arm and held it tightly, refusing to let him go. He turned back to the smaller boy only to be met with a glare that could kill._

_"Is that all you think of me?"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Do you think I would just have sex with ANYONE?" Feliciano shouted, causing Ludwig to take a step back in surprise. "Do you honestly think I would just jump on the first thing I could for the sake of screwing it? For the love of the Pope, Ludwig, I'm not FRANCIS!"_

_Okay, Ludwig had to agree with that one. But there was still one thing that bothered him._

_"But you're just horny because of that CD," he insisted, tugging his arm out of Feliciano's grip. "And I refuse to be your partner just because you heard sexual lyrics."_

_Feliciano was silent for a few long moments. He stared up at the German with those same hurt eyes, but tears started to form in them this time. He didn't let them fall, but his cheeks were turning pink, and he was beginning to shake. "You know," he finally began, "I'm a virgin, too."_

_Ludwig took another step back in surprise. "No way."_

_"It's true!" Feliciano cried, sounding desperate. "And if that wasn't enough, I've only kissed one person outside my family in my entire life!" He finally broke down and began to cry but made no move to wipe the tears away. "So I wouldn't have sex with just anyone. That shit doesn't fly by me!"_

_Now Ludwig was just plain shocked. That had to have been the first time he had ever heard Feliciano swear. From the moment he had met him at the beginning of the school year, he had figured that Lovino would always be the one to curse. It seemed Feliciano had inherited some of his brother's colorful vocabulary after all._

_Feliciano finally wiped his tears away. "I've only kissed one other person," he repeated through sobs. "It was a very long time ago, when I was really little. I fell in love with a boy, and he was my first kiss..." He paused and dropped to the floor with a sudden thump, causing Ludwig to wince. "I don't know what's happened to him," the Italian continued. "One day, he just disappeared. Grandpa told me that he died, but I don't believe it. He's got to still be out there somewhere!"_

_"Feliciano," Ludwig breathed as he knelt in front of the Italian, "you should be saving yourself for him then, don't you think? Why do it with me when you're truly in love with someone else?"_

_"Because I love you, too!" Feliciano cried, his head shooting up to meet Ludwig's gaze. He stared into those endless blue eyes and continued to let his tears fall. "I've fallen in love with you, too, Ludwig, and I can't help it. I wouldn't want to have sex with you if I didn't love you! I don't want just anybody. There are so many fakers out there, and I'm not interested in them. I want someone real, not someone made out of paper..."_

_Ludwig shook his head and frowned sympathetically. "You're still heartbroken," he murmured, cupping Feliciano's cheeks and forcing him to continue looking at him. "I won't do anything with you, because you still haven't gotten over your first love. It wouldn't be fair of me to do anything with you when someone else deserves you so much more." In truth, he was beginning to feel horrible about what he had said to the Italian. Sweet, innocent Feliciano never deserved such cruel words, no matter how badly or how often he messed up._

_Feliciano suddenly shook his head. "No," he whispered, "the ones who love me told me to stop."_

_"What?"_

_"Ve, I was really depressed about my first love for a long time, and Grandpa was the one who told me to move on. My _fratello_ did, too." Feliciano closed his red, puffy eyes and sighed. "I'll always wait for him, but I've got to keep moving on with my life. I'm looking for love, Ludwig, not someone who's just going to play me, and I've found love in you!" He suddenly sprang forward and wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck, holding the German close. He didn't want to let go, ever. He didn't want to lose another love._

_Slowly, Ludwig wrapped his arms around Feliciano's waist. Now he really felt horrible. What kind of man was he? "I take it all back, Feliciano," he whispered, smoothing the brown hair back. "I'm so sorry."_

_"I wouldn't sign my life away to just anyone," Feliciano whispered back. "Only to someone I love. I love you, Ludwig. _Ti amo. Ich liebe dich._"_

_Ludwig didn't bother to ask Feliciano where he had learned that sentence in German. He was too preoccupied kissing the little Italian's forehead and whispering comforting, apologizing words. The music from Gilbert's room was still blasting through the walls, but neither one of them could hear it. They were gone, lost in their own little world._

_Carefully, Ludwig picked Feliciano up in his arms and carried him back to his bed. He set him down and kissed his forehead again. Slowly, Feliciano moved his arms down so his palms were resting on Ludwig's cheeks. He still had tears in his eyes, but thy were different tears._

_"I love you so much, Ludwig."_

_And he kissed him._

_"...I love you, too, Feliciano."_

_"...Make love to me."_

_And he did._

"Feliciano?"

The little Italian woke slowly, his eyelids fluttering open. After his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked up to see Ludwig taking his reading glasses off. "I just finished a chapter, so we can leave early," he explained. "Get up and get your stuff together. We can go to the movie rental store and get any movie you want."

Feliciano yawned cutely. "I just want you," he whispered lovingly. He smiled and stood, smoothing out his uniform pants as Ludwig placed his books back into his bag, a blush staining his cheeks.

"Yes, well, we could do that, too." He glanced at his boyfriend and smiled a bit as he closed his bag up. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. And, Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"...I love you, too."

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the dance in matching outfits?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

From the back corner of the library, Kiku silently cursed as he watched his friends leave. Didn't they know he needed more pictures? The ones he had taken from a year ago outside Ludwig's bedroom window weren't enough!

"Though that pretty much was the best day of my life," he quietly admitted as he looked through the saved photos on his camera. They had pretty much cemented his place as a great friend to Elizaveta, but he knew they served another purpose. "The best day of my life," he whispered, "and the best day of their lives, too." He flipped past the old pictures of Feliciano and Ludwig, past the newer ones of Roderich and Vash, and set the camera back to its original picture-taking mode. Smiling, he stood and followed his friends out of the library. He needed new references for _doujinshi_, and, by _Kami-sama_, he was going to get them!

_'Cuz I do not accept any less than someone just as real, as fabulous._

_Don't want no paper gangsta._

_Won't sign away my life to someone who's got the flavor_

_But don't have no follow through._

_Don't want no paper gangsta._

_Won't sign no monkey papers._

_I don't do funny business._

_Not interested in fakers._

_Don't want no paper gangsta._

_Uh-oh, don't want no paper gangsta._

END

**Translations:**

fratello = brother (Italian)

bruder = brother (German)

nein = no (German)

Ti amo = I love you (Italian)

Ich liebe dich = I love you (German)

Kami-sama = God (Japanese)


	22. DELUXE: Track 12: Brown Eyes

**Author's Note:** I'm opening up the chance for you guys to ask me any questions you might have about _The Hetalian Monster_ or _The Hetalian Fame_. (As for _Born This Hetalian Way..._That's off-limits. I'm not giving away any of my ideas!) XD Send them in reviews or a PM. All questions will be answered in the last "track," the Deluxe Edition CD Booklet. (Any cultural/historical references that have not been explained at the end of a track will be explained in the CD Booklet, too.)

I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies or if I ruin this episode for you. (Trust me, this was difficult for me to write. This is my favorite episode, and I've sorta ruined it for myself out of the desire to continue this fic.)

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Brown Eyes**

"Huh? So this is Italy's ally? Somehow, I don't like him..."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"What? You don't know me? You're quite ignorant. As you can see...this scultpure-like beauty, this strength of steel! I am none other than the mighty Roman Empire, Ruler of the Mediterranean!"

"Get out, you bastard! What the hell are you here for? And at that! Impersonating the great Roman Empire, a man I have great respect for, is unforgivable!"

"But I am him..."

Germania rolled his eyes. Rome should have seen this coming. If just appearing in someone's bedroom in the middle of the night wasn't creepy enough, declaring himself as the Roman Empire, someone who has been dead for years, was just the gravy on the mashed potatoes. Had he really expected Germany to say something along the lines of, "Oh, my God! I'm so honored that the great Roman Empire would sneak into my bedroom in the middle of the night and awake me to behold his glory!"?

"Come on~ Don't get so worked up. Remember when you heard my beautiful voice the other day?"

Yes, apparently he HAD expected Germany to react in such a way.

Germania smacked his forehead. Things had always been like this, even when the two of them had been alive. Rome may have been the supreme ruler of the known world at the time, but that didn't mean he wasn't an idiot. He was just a big, strong, unbelievably powerful idiot who liked to beat the shit out of enemies and then go home to wine and a harem. Somehow, it had all worked out for him.

But not in the end. If it had, Rome would still be alive.

And so would Germania.

Germania sat against the wall in the other room, the back of his head resting against it. When he had found out that Rome had asked God to see his grandson (Read: Rome had questionably threatened God in some unnatural way to see his grandson.), he had immediately followed, asking God if he could accompany Rome to Earth to see his own grandsons. Germania was surprised that he hadn't been found out in this lie.

Or he had and God just had a sick sense of humor.

"I came to see my adorable grandson!"

"WAIT. WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING IN MY BED?"

"Aw, you're so cute~~!"

"A dream. A dream! This is a dream!"

He couldn't see his grandsons. Germany had never really known Germania, not as Germany anyway. So if he had just magically shown up in the young man's bedroom claiming to be his dead grandfather, the situation would be even creepier. And Rome was taking especially good care to up the creepiness wherever he could as much as he could. That task was done.

Germania figured that he could go see Prussia. Yeah, Prussia would remember him. After all, the albino was the older of his two grandsons, and he had already been born as Prussia during the time Germania was still around. But would he care? Other people who had died were more important to Prussia than Germania was. Germania was pretty sure that if he asked his older grandson whom he would rather see, himself or Old Fritz, Prussia would choose the latter faster than he could say that he was awesome. Besides, the Kingdom of Prussia had been dissolved in 1918. The cabinet was gone, the army had been absorbed into other armies, and hardly anyone was left. Germania knew deep in his heart, and he had a feeling his oldest grandson did, too, that the man known as "Prussia" would most likely not be around for too much longer.

This didn't break Germania's heart as much as the fact that his younger grandson didn't remember him did. If the Holy Roman Empire were still alive, yes, he would definitely be remembered by his younger grandson.

But he was gone.

And now Germany, the home of the world's Germanic people, was alive.

It was _supposed_ to be everything that Germania and Prussia had ever wanted, and maybe it was what Prussia wanted, but it didn't sit well with Germania.

"What? So you can't even get a girl in your bed? You're a pretty lonely guy, aren't you?"

"Shut up!"

These kids didn't know the meaning of "everything." "Everything" was just that: everything. Every. Single. Damn. Thing. It wasn't just one thing for one group of people. It wasn't just one mission accomplished. Was this mission even accomplished? And what was the damn mission in the first place? Germany's boss knew what he wanted, absolutely, but even that couldn't be considered "everything." Did he want "everything?" Did Germany want "everything?" Did the Axis Powers want "everything?" Did the Allied Powers want "everything?" Did the world want "everything?" Did _anyone_ want "everything?"

Did anyone even understand the _meaning_ of "everything?"

Rome had understood the meaning of "everything." He had understood it, wanted it, and gotten it.

Everything was everything.

At least..it had been.

What had gone wrong? That was the question Germania often heard about Rome. In a way, those who asked such a question had a valid point. Rome had been the most powerful empire in the known world, and he had fallen so suddenly. The initial answer had been easy. "He became too big to manage!"

That excuse was getting old.

"Alright then! This old man will give you a special lesson!"

"You are so damn annoying..."

There had been nothing wrong with Rome's size. Rome was strong enough to manage himself, even if he was an idiot. The people loyally obeyed him out of fear and respect, and life was good enough that nobody had any real reason to complain. Okay, maybe the lowest of the low in society did...but that hadn't changed at all! From what Germania could tell, society still worked that same way with the strongest, wealthiest, most privileged at the top and the lowest of the low at the bottom! What constituted "lowest of the low" anyway? Germania couldn't think about that; one mind-boggling question at a time was enough.

Maybe it was because they hadn't been old enough. Maybe that was where everything had gone wrong. Maybe Rome had been too immature to handle himself as a large empire. There was no doubt that he still had great strength, even in death, but perhaps the mental capacity had not met the physical.

Germania slapped himself. He was thinking of things too obviously.

And, this time, the obvious didn't seem like the answer.

There was always the fact that Rome had been the one to kill Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt. Well, in a way at least. Germania had known that something terrible was going to happen the moment he had found out that the two of them were pregnant. Nations didn't bear children unless the children were going to take over their mothers' territories. It had worried Germania greatly, but it hadn't bothered Rome at all. After all, that just, in his own words, meant "more adorable children and grandchildren for me!" He had then insisted that Germania go find himself a woman, to which Germania hadn't even replied for the sake of keeping himself together. Had he lost it, he most likely would have punched Rome in the face.

Sure enough, shortly after Greece and Egypt were born, their mothers died, leaving those two small sons to fend for themselves. No duh that Turkey had swept up their territories the moment he could, eventually turning himself into the Ottoman Empire.

But that wasn't the empire Germania was concerned with. After all, Turkey still existed, so he wasn't worth worrying about.

"What? So you're a fan of mine? A fan?"

"Well, it's true that I respect you..."

"THAT'S GREAT! Respect me all you want!"

Germania had respected him.

He _had_.

He didn't now.

No, he didn't.

Yes, he did.

He still did.

No, he didn't.

He had never respected Rome at all. He had _hated_ him.

Him...and everything about him!

And Germania did mean "EVERYTHING!" Everything! EVERY. SINGLE. DAMN. THING! He had been so powerful and strong. Arrogant as hell. Stupid as hell. A total idiot! It was HIS FAULT that he had fallen. Germania hadn't done anything wrong!

Germania buried his face in his hands.

Yes, he had.

He had done _everything_ wrong.

He had started out by loving Rome.

And he had finished by killing him.

"Why did you disappear? You were so strong, but you suddenly disappeared! Where did you go? And where are you now?"

"...Those are some tough questions. I was a fool. I couldn't realize that..."

Germania smacked his hands over his ears. He didn't want to hear Rome's excuse. Rome was a fool, after all. He would come up with some reason or not even reply clearly at all. Of course he couldn't answer any of Germany's questions. The truth...it would be too much.

Too much for all of them.

_"Germania, what are you DOING?"_

_"This is your last show. It's time to say 'good-bye,' Rome."_

_"What...?"_

_"Get your last fix and your last hit!"_

_"Germania, STOP IT! What are you doing? It's me, Rome!"_

_"Exactly! And that's precisely why...precisely why..."_

_"Why...what?"_

_"WHY I HAVE TO KILL YOU!"_

Germania kneeled over and cried, burying his face in his hands.

It had all been his fault.

He sobbed pathetically, sniffing and choking on his tears. Too many years had gone by without a single emotion. He regretted everything.

As in..."everything," which had been...everything.

Everything was his fault.

He blamed himself for getting lost in those eyes...

Those big, beautiful, strong, captivating...brown eyes.

* * *

The next morning, Italy awoke before Germany, no surprise, and called Japan right away to celebrate. "I'm amazing! I'm amazing!" he cheered. "I did it! I woke up before Germany!"

Germania listened. He had stopped crying, but the tear stains were still visible on his cheeks. He looked up towards the ceiling and stared, as if searching for some answer. If he could say anything to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again...Was there anything he could say to his young grandson?

Yes. One thing.

"Never," he barely whispered, "never...fall for those eyes, Germany. You'll just get hurt."

But it was futile.

Germany had already fallen for those eyes, those eyes that were so much like Rome's.

Those big, beautiful, strong, captivating...brown eyes.

_If everything was everything..._

_But everything is over._

_Everything could be everything..._

_If only we were older._

_Guess it's just a silly song about you._

_And how I lost you..._

_And your brown eyes._

END


	23. DELUXE: Track 13: I Like It Rough

**Author's Note:** Have I ever mentioned how much it sucks being a review whore? Well, it does. Seriously though, your comments help me write better fanfiction, because they tell me what kinds of stories and plots you'd like to see. So gimme a little bit of feedback, okay? Even if you hated it, it's okay. I'm just trying to write better stories, and it feels pointless if it seems like no one cares.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: I Like It Rough**

_You're a good soldier, choosing your battles. Pick yourself up and dust yourself off and back in the saddle~_

Netherlands pressed the pause button on his iPod and plucked one of the buds from his ear. The game was starting. He sighed, shutting the device off and placing it into his bag. Adjusting his bright orange uniform, he stood and followed his teammates out of the locker room. "We've got to win," he heard one of the men murmur. "We have to win..."

Yes, they had to win. Netherlands had never won a World Cup before. He had come so close in the past, so close and yet so far. His current position as a team in the finals was no foreign place for him or any of the players he had ever battled alongside. But it wasn't enough. Just making it to the finals meant nothing. Only winning could satisfy him.

But why did the other team have to be Spain's?

It was a strange situation to Netherlands, because he hated Spain, and yet Spain was one of the favorites in the beginning. Netherlands could admit that he had been pleased when he had heard that Switzerland had beaten Spain in their group's first match, but that hardly mattered anymore. Switzerland had never made it out of the group, and Spain had redeemed himself against teams like Paraguay and Germany. It actually sent a shiver down Netherlands's spine to think that Spain had beaten Germany and Prussia. The two of them had been absolute beasts, knocking down England and Argentina as if it were nothing. Then Spain had come along and destroyed everything for them. They at least had beaten Uruguay to take third place, but it had probably been heartbreaking to the German Brothers, especially because they had lost in the same position in 2006, that time to the Italian Brothers. It turned out that all that running away they had practiced during World War II had been good for _something._

Netherlands shook his head. No, he couldn't think about any of that. This was 2010, not 2006, and he had a chance to be the World Cup Champion for the first time ever!

"Alright, Guys, I want to say something to you all," came the voice of Bert van Marwijk, the coach for the Dutch team. He waited until the men were surrounding him to continue. "Today is a big day for us, and it could go down in history for our team. I want you all to bring your best to the field today. We've come this far! We can't lose now!"

The team agreed with a cheer, but Netherlands himself wasn't feeling too hot. That feeling of invincibility surrounding Spain was something he couldn't ignore. And, if that wasn't enough, Spain had practically tortured them the night before.

That night, Shakira had had a concert for the teams, singing the Official World Cup Song "Waka Waka." It had been a fantastic confidence booster for Netherlands. That song was just too damn catchy! It was still stuck in his head by the time he and his team made it back to their hotel room. Just when they were all about to go to sleep, they heard loud footsteps, cheering, banging on doors, and the infamous noise of the vuvuzela coming from just outside their rooms.

All that along with some screaming in Spanish.

"_Idioten!_" one of Netherlands's roommates shouted. "_Laat ons met rust!_"

Spain ignored him and continued to bang on the doors. Netherlands stopped his teammate from opening it, shaking his head. "I won't let him in," his gaze said, though he twitched when he heard a particularly loud burst from a vuvuzela. As if constantly hearing that damn noise during all the games wasn't enough!

Another roommate grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and shoved a few of them into his ears before jumping into his bed and lifting the covers above his head. Netherlands groaned. None of them were going to sleep well that night, if Spain had his way. Where did that guy get all his energy from anyway?

But that was over, and the team had somehow managed to get a full night's sleep. Eventually, Spain and his players had gone back to their own rooms, leaving the Dutchmen to sleep peacefully. And Netherlands was thankful for it. They were energized and ready to go!

There was a huge moment of pride as soon as Netherlands stepped out onto the field. He could see the fans in their bright orange clothes, waving the Dutch flag around above their heads. Netherlands allowed himself a small smile. Moments of patriotism like this were enough to make him smile even in his worst mood. Now if only he could have his pipe, this would be perfect. He hated the fact that he couldn't smoke throughout the entirety of the tournament.

As soon as the national anthems for both countries were over, the teams broke away and began to settle themselves on the field. Netherlands could hear Spain trash-talking him in a way, so he walked faster.

"I thought you were supposed to sparkle in the sunlight!" one of the Spanish players shouted. Spain and the other burst out laughing. Netherlands just rolled his eyes. He hated being compared to that pansy-assed, fictional vampire, even if the resemblance between them was striking. Damn America and his shitty authors! Netherlands was there first! He didn't bother responding. He was above that.

In no time, the sides were chosen, and the players were set in their positions. Netherlands stood just across from Spain, the two of them being the players to do the kick-off and start the match.

And it was on.

"HELL YEAH, NETHERLANDS, BEAT THAT PEDOPHILE SPANIARD!" Prussia screamed from the stands. Germany smacked his forehead and looked down, utterly embarrassed. Why did his idiot brother have to shout THAT of all things?

"_Bruder, bitte..._"

"What the hell crawled up your ass and died, West?" the older brother asked. "It better be Paul. I mean, he's a GERMAN octopus, and yet he made it so Spain defeated us! I'm making calamari out of that stupid octopus, I swear."

"...After it's been up my ass?"

"...This un-awesome conversation never happened."

"Agreed."

Mere minutes into the game, there were already opportunities for goals, but there were even more yellow cards. What was with all the fouls? Netherlands couldn't help but wonder if the referee was blind or something. He also couldn't help but shout in frustration, right along with van Marwijk, at the missed opportunities and numerous yellow cards. True, some of them were for Spain, but it seemed like this referee had it out for the Dutch.

"Damn it," Netherlands cursed as the clock reached the forty-five-minute mark, "I didn't think this game would be this hard. This is like when Bel tries to straighten her curls." He looked up into the stands and, sure enough, could see his sister watching and cheering. She waved at him and blew her vuvuzela, a sign that she was with him the whole time. Netherlands smirked and waved back as he walked towards the edge of the field for half-time.

The break was over before he knew it. Netherlands and his teammates moved back out towards the field and set up, the Spainish mirroring their movements into their own formation. The score was still zero-zero, and both teams planned to change that very quickly.

But they would have to wait still. Van Marwijk nearly tore his hair out at all of the missed opportunities for the Dutch to score. And why did it always seem like Spain was able to take full control of the ball after a missed shot? Netherlands could see that cocky smirk on Spain's face every time, and it infuriated him.

"Sparkly vampire," Spain whispered just as he ran by Netherlands with the ball.

That was the final straw.

"I ONLY SHINE BECAUSE I'M SO DAMN AWESOME!" Netherlands shouted, running after the Spaniard at top speed. He managed to get the ball away, but then his teammate Heitinga...NO! "A red card!" Netherlands nearly screamed. He was visibly shaking as the horrible little card was lifted into the air.

"Ve, ve, _Fratello_, what do you think Big Brother Spain said to make Netherlands so angry?" Italy asked, sitting in the stands.

Romano frowned deeply. "Bah! I don't care what that jerk said! I want the bastard to lose!"

"Ve~ You don't mean that."

Romano shrugged and smirked. "At least he's better than the potato bastards. Their own stupid, potato-brained octopus turned on them!"

"But Paul doesn't eat potatoes..."

Back down on the field, Netherlands and his teammates were beginning to feel the strain of running around so much. Their legs were on fire, burning with pain every time they had to move again. But that ball was worth it. They just needed to take control again!

But...

"SHIT!"

Too late.

"GOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!" the sportscaster screamed into his microphone, cheering the Spanish team along. Spain nearly squealed and ran to Andrés Iniesta, who had just shot the first successful goal of the game. Netherlands turned away bitterly. He couldn't watch.

"Now we REALLY need to move it," he muttered. "God dammit, I wish I had my pipe!"

The Dutch fought as hard as they possibly could. In the last few minutes, Netherlands did everything he could. He ran faster than he had ever run before. He was more aggressive than ever. His goalie was moving around and staying as alert as possible to stop anymore attempted goals.

But it wasn't enough.

"AND IT'S OVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER! SPAIN HAS WON!"

Netherlands fell to the grass as he watched Spain and his teammates celebrate their victory. His own teammates followed him, falling one by one, hearts broken and dreams crushed.

"We lost..."

Netherlands couldn't hear the crowd going wild or the officials congratulating Spain. He heard nothing. What was the point of hearing by this point anyway? Nothing was worth listening to. He figured that this was good for several more lame "Twilight" jokes from Spain, and a little ball of dread dropped into the pit of his stomach.

With nothing else left, Netherlands stood and went to head back to the locker room. But when he turned, he was met with a surprise.

Everyone.

All of the other losing countries were standing behind him, all thirty other nations. Yes, that was everyone! He could even see North Korea standing in the back! For a moment, he couldn't speak. This was stunning!

"What are you all...?"

"You're the winner for the losers!" Denmark shouted, smiling.

"You were amazing out there, mate!" Australia added.

"Ve, it was an exciting match!" Italy squealed

"You were great, Netherlands-san!" Japan said.

"He was better than great!" America interjected. "He was AWESOME!"

"No wonder you do so well in the Olympics," Greece commented.

Despite the warm words, Netherlands still frowned. He silently shook his head and looked down, ashamed of himself. He had promised his people that he would bring home the winning title. He had never won before, and this was supposed to be his year. He had wanted that title more than that idiot Spain had, most definitely. He couldn't get that smug smirk and those insults out of his head.

"I lost..."

"Hey!" South Korea suddenly interrupted, running towards the front of the crowd. "Know what I just realized?"

England rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

South Korea grinned. "This World Cup turned out to be just like World War II before this final match. Think about it! France surrendered early, England was completely destroyed, America came in at the last second, Italy was useless, Japan took his surrender as a great dishonor, and the rest of us had to fight the Germans!"

Silence. They couldn't even hear the vuvuzelas.

And then, out of nowhere, Prussia burst out laughing. "AND I DIDN'T HAVE TO BE DISSOLVED THIS TIME!"

Soon, everyone was laughing. Netherlands even allowed himself to laugh a bit, and he could even see North Korea giggling a bit in the back. After a moment, he calmed down and smiled down at the Asian boy. He ruffled his hair and said, "Thanks. I needed that."

"What's so funny?"

Netherlands turned around and his eyes widened. "Shakira!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing how you are," the singer replied, smiling gently. "Are you okay?"

Netherlands smiled again and shrugged. "I'll live."

"You were fantastic out there, I think."

"Thanks. I swear, it was like chewing on pearls, it was so tough!"

Shakira's smile widened. "Well, I have something for all of you," she announced, turning to the group. "I want to take all of you out for drinks tonight, all on me!"

"HELL YEAH!" Prussia screamed, jumping onto Germany's back. "AND CALAMARI AS AN APPETIZER!"

Shakira laughed. "As much as you want!"

* * *

That night, the thirty-one losing nations gathered together in one of South Africa's local bars, singing, dancing, drinking, and living it up. They had only been there a short amount of time, but they were all drunk already.

Except Netherlands. He stood outside, smoking his pipe as cool breezes brushed by him. He glanced inside the building and smiled a bit. Prussia and Germany were singing "Waka Waka" very poorly on the karaoke machine. England screamed something about being either Catholic or Protestant, and Japan followed with a scream about whether he followed Shintoism or Buddhism. America was trying to tell everyone a story about how Captain Capitalism had defeated the evil Dr. Communism in a blaze of glory. Greece was snoring in the corner with North Korea at his feet, who had already passed out cold. By the looks of things, South Korea wasn't too far behind. Denmark was shouting gibberish at Cameroon for no apparent reason, and Switzerland had already fired two shots into the ceiling. France was trying to hit on Shakira, but the woman was too quick and ran outside just before she could witness the Frenchman strip, to which Romano replied with a scream and covered Italy's eyes.

"Crazy in there, huh?" Netherlands asked, exhaling some smoke as she ran outside.

Shakira just smiled. "No big deal. They deserve this after everything they've been through." She paused to catch her breath and leaned up against the building next to the Dutchman. "What about you? I'll pay for a beer if you want one."

"Nah," Netherlands replied, "I'm good as long as I've got my smokes. Thanks though." He inhaled the smoke and released it quietly, watching the wind take it away. After another moment, he continued, "I'm not upset anymore. What's done is done. And, in a strange way, I'm happy for Spain. At least it was somebody from Europe. And there's always the tournament in 2014 when we go to Brazil's place."

Shakira frowned a bit. "Brazil has won more World Cup tournaments than anyone," she replied. "You sure you'll be able to do it? It'll be rough."

Netherlands smirked. "That's okay." He took another long drag on his pipe and exhaled quickly, still smirking. "I like it rough."

_I'm shiny and I know it._

_Don't know why you want to blow it._

_Need a man who likes it rough, likes it rough, likes it rough._

_I'm shiny and I know it._

_Don't know why you want to blow it._

_Need a man who likes it rough, likes it rough, likes it rough._

_Is it 'cause you don't mean it or because I don't feel it_

_Unless it's rough?_

_Is it 'cause you don't mean it or because I don't feel it_

_Unless it's rough?_

_(Lady GaGa!)_

END

**Author's Note:** I had my iPod on shuffle while I was writing this, and it kept playing Shakira's music even though so many other artists were on the list. Weird. XD

**Translations:**

_Idioten! Laat ons met rust! _= Idiots! Leave us alone! (Dutch)

_Bruder, bitte..._ = Brother, please...(German)

_Fratello_ = Brother (Italian)


	24. DELUXE: Track 14: Summerboy

**Author's Note: **Holy crap, this is long. (can't believe she wrote all of this for one track) And I apologize in advance (once again) for any historical inaccuracies or if I left something out that you felt was important. I also apologize for any OOC-ness.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Summerboy**

Ukraine loved summer. It was the season when the sunflowers were in full bloom, and her family's normally cold, blustery home was full of sunshine, life, and happiness. It was the season that didn't require scarves, though her little brother still wore his anyway, which she found adorable. It was also the season when she could go on vacation and try to make friends, even though she knew she'd always come back to her brother's home, still alone and yet part of something much bigger than herself.

Summer was the best season ever. It was the one season that could change people, the one that could change _her_.

But summer wasn't the season changing her life this time. No, it was spring. Well, technically, it was the end of winter, but it was close enough to spring that it counted in her mind.

The spring of 1947.

"Look who I brought home~!" Russia nearly squealed as he opened the front door of the Soviet Union mansion. "Come, Comrades, I have a new comrade for you~!"

The joined countries of the Soviet Union came running towards the main entrance of the mansion, not daring to ignore a call from Russia. Belarus was there first, her eyes fixed on her brother. Then, one by one, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, and Ukraine appeared, and their hearts nearly stopped.

Russia took in their stunned faces, smiling wide. "I brought you all a new playmate. Say, 'hello'!"

"It's...Prussia," Lithuania gasped, nearly shaking at the sight of the albino in Russia's arms. He took in the bruises, the cuts, and the scrapes and had to ask, "What happened to him?"

Russia giggled. "Well, first of all, his name isn't 'Prussia' anymore. He's 'ex-Prussia' now. The Allies were sick and tired of his bullshit, so they dissolved him! He'll be living with us from now on. He's the newest addition to the Soviet Union!"

Estonia gasped. "No way..."

Latvia shook slightly. "And...Germany didn't bust a barrel of beer over your head in a rage and scream?"

"LATVIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Russia kept smiling, as if the comments meant nothing. He just clutched Prussia closer to his body and said, "Germany won't be saying much of anything for quite a while..." He turned towards Prussia's ear and whispered, "I've never seen someone leave him so speechless. You have quite a talent." He giggled again and turned back to the group. "Ex-Prussia here left Germany of his own free will. If he had stayed with him, he would have had to fight until he died, so he left his precious, adorable baby brother behind to save his own ass. It was an act of selfishness. He left sweet, innocent Germany behind, breaking his little heart just so he, one who is not even a country anymore, would survive!"

The silence ringing throughout the mansion was deafening. The nations of the Soviet Union, even Belarus, wore expressions that were beyond shocked. Latvia started shaking more, and Lithuania and Estonia were too blown away to move. Russia loved the reactions. He knew that, mentally, the others were whispering their gossip about the ex-nation in his arms. Having this kind of control was what he lived for.

But something wasn't right.

"Ukraine?" he began, catching the attention of his older sister. "You've been awfully quiet. Is everything okay?"

Ukraine nodded. "I'm just...surprised."

Russia smirked. "I don't know why. A man like ex-Prussia doesn't care for or love anyone or anything other than himself. I saw this coming years ago."

"Oh..."

"So that's it! Play nicely, Everyone!"

* * *

Without a warning, Russia lifted the vodka bottle high above his head and smacked it down onto Prussia's, causing the albino to crumble to the floor. The alcohol splashed over him, and a few small trickles of blood ran down his forehead, staining his silver hair red in the process.

But he didn't move.

"Boring," Russia repeated. He turned to the doorway. "Ukraine!"

"Yes!" came the woman's voice as she ran down the hallway, her breasts making their _boing!_ sound as she moved. When she appeared in the doorway, she gasped at the sight of Prussia on the ground.

"He's not dead," her little brother explained. "At least physically. Clean him up for me, would you? He's at least good for serving vodka, and I only like my alcohol with the taste of worthy blood."

"...Yes." Ukraine nodded and stepped into the room as Russia walked out. After a moment to make sure he was gone, Ukraine stooped down to the fallen nation and brushed some of his bloody bangs out of his face. She gasped when Prussia clutched her hand suddenly.

"Stop it," he hissed, "I can take care of my damn self."

"Okay," Ukraine replied shakily, standing and taking a step back away from the albino. She watched as he brought himself to his feet, and she held back tears when he wiped the blood from his face. He would need a shower and a few bandages. Ukraine's motherly side suddenly began to emerge, and she rushed out of the room to find said bandages. She was back within moments with the box. "At least let me patch you up after you wash the blood out."

Prussia glared. "Why do you care so much for me?"

Ukraine gasped. "Uh..." she began, not sure of how to reply. "I..."

"I don't want you to care for me, damn woman!"

Ukraine stepped back. "I'm sorry! I just want to be sure you're okay!"

"OF COURSE I'M NOT OKAY."

Suddenly, Ukraine realized how stupid her previous statement was. Tears started to well up in her eyes. "Of course you're not okay. I was an idiot..."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "No, I take that back," he continued. "Of course I'm okay. I don't care about anything that's happened. I don't care about what's happened to West. Why should I? I don't love anyone or anything other than myself."

"That's not true."

Red eyes grew wide with anger. "You don't know a damn thing about me, stupid woman. You don't know what's true and what's not."

"You care for your brother!"

Silence.

"You love him. I know it!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Ukraine almost fell over.

"THAT'S THE VERY REASON HE'S SUFFERING!"

Prussia fell to the floor, bringing his hands up to his face. The blood had stopped flowing, and dried blood stained his forehead. It smeared with his tears. "I love my little brother so much..."

Slowly and quietly, Ukraine stepped towards Prussia and crouched down to his level. She reached out and touched his back tenderly and then slowly began to rub it, letting him cry. She wondered when the last time he cried was. While she had never personally met Prussia before becoming part of the Soviet Union, she had heard plenty about him. He was the strong, proud, amazingly awesome country who seized vital regions and did whatever he wanted without a second thought.

He _was_.

"I want to die."

Ukraine's eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me," Prussia muttered. "I want to die."

Ukraine shook her head. "No, you don't," she insisted. "You can't..."

Prussia looked up at her. "And why not?" he asked. "What else do I have to live for? My country has been dissolved...permanently. I represent nothing but an oppressed people living in fear under constant watch. My glory days are over. They were over a long time ago. Now I've been separated from my brother, who's never going to speak again." He paused and let a few tears roll down his cheeks. "He doesn't think that I heard him, but I did. I heard everything he said. I heard every threat and every plea. And I couldn't look at him. Do you have any idea why?"

Cautiously, Ukraine shook her head. "No...why?"

After a moment of silence and more tears, Prussia finally spoke. "Because I could only see him as a child." He glanced across the floor, and his eyes stopped at the broken vodka bottle. "Remember how long that vodka bottle was? When West was born...again...he was just barely longer than that bottle."

Ukraine was touched and stunned. How much Prussia obviously cared for his little brother was heartwarming. She began to hate her own little brother for his his harsh words. But something else bothered her, too. "What do you mean by 'born again'?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Prussia looked back at her and smirked. "Right, you don't know. No one else knows. Heh, it was actually something of a secret I kept long after my bosses died. I'm the only one who knows it now." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "The Holy Roman Empire was dissolved in 1806, but Holy Roman Empire himself did not die."

Ukraine's eyes widened. "He didn't?"

"Nope. I picked him up off the battlefield and brought him back to my boss at the time, Frederick William III. Old Fritz had already been dead for years, sadly. I brought him home and...the next morning..."

_Prussia awoke to the sound of a baby crying. "What the hell?" he gasped, sitting up in bed. There were no babies in the castle, and there was no way that Holy Roman Empire could have already awoken and had the strength to cry out. What was going on?_

_Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open. "Master Prussia!" a nurse cried. "You must see this!"_

_Without another thought, Prussia jumped out of his bed, not ashamed of his underwear-only-clad form. He followed the nurse quickly down the hallway, and she opened the door to the room in which Prussia had placed Holy Roman Empire. As soon as she did, the wails increased in volume. Prussia stared in awe. "Oh, my God, he's...a baby." He slowly walked to the bed, and, sure enough, there was a tiny infant squirming about and screaming for love and attention._

_"This is impossible," the nurse insisted. "There's no way..."_

_"Unless he's meant to be something more," Prussia interrupted, gasping. "He wasn't meant to recover as a new version of the Holy Roman Empire. He's meant to be something new entirely. That's why he's a baby again."_

_The nurse's eyes widened in fear. "What...what do we do?"_

_Prussia looked back at her and smiled. "We take care of him. We raise him." He stepped forward and slowly reached out, picking up the baby and rocking him close to his chest. "We can raise him to be a new country, a strong, powerful country. He'll be my little brother! He'll be so awesome one day!" He looked down at the child and smiled. "He's already awesome. Don't worry, Little Brother, you're safe. I'll take care of you and love you...forever."_

_The baby stopped crying._

Ukraine was in shock. "No way," she gasped. "You're kidding me."

Prussia shook his head, still smirking. "I wouldn't lie about that. That was how West transformed from being the dissolved Holy Roman Empire into what would become modern-day Germany." He paused and suddenly frowned, looking down to the floor. "And now he is Germany. He's a land for all the Germanic people of the world, everything my bosses ever wanted. And what am I? Only the guy who raised him. Only the guy who fed him, clothed him, gave him a warm bed and a ceiling over his head, made him smile when he was sad, and gave him everything he could ever want...only to be dissolved and become a slave to a psychotic Russian." Another pause. "That's why I want to die. It's not like I'm good for anything anymore. I refuse to serve vodka to a communist for the rest of my life."

Ukraine frowned sadly and separated herself from Prussia. She sat down in her own spot and brought her knees to her chest. "Well," she began, "I can think of a good reason why you shouldn't die."

Prussia quirked a brow. "Oh, really? Enlighten me then, please."

The woman smiled sadly. "You're the only one who remembers what Germany was like when he was a baby, right?"

"Yes, that's what I just told you."

"And Germany doesn't remember anything?"

"No, he's told me that he can't remember anything before 1871, when his territory was unified."

"Then that's a good reason." She turned and looked Prussia dead in the eye. "You have to live so the memories of your brother's childhood stay alive. If you die, all of those memories will disappear. You are a symbol not only of Prussia, but also of the time before the Unification of Germany." Suddenly, her serious facade broke, and tears welled up in her eyes. They poured down her cheeks into little puddles on the floor. "So please don't say that you want to die! All those precious memories will disappear, and Germany will be without his big brother! He may be suffering right now, but he's waiting for you to come back! Don't die, Prussia! Live for him! He's just a sad, scared, lonely little boy who wants his big brother back, so you have to live so that that day may come!" She buried her face in her hands and continued to cry. "Please don't die, Prussia. Please don't die..."

Ukraine wasn't sure how long she sat there and cried in her brother's office. What she did know was that when she looked up, Prussia had broken out into tears again. She reached out and held him close, letting him sob on her shoulder for however long he needed to.

"I'll do whatever I can," she whispered. "I'll get you back to your brother, no matter how long it takes." She paused and slowly pushed Prussia away so he was sitting up again, looking into her eyes. "I have an idea about something I can do to cheer you up in the meantime," she offered. "Once summer comes, would you like to go to the beach with me?"

* * *

"HOLY CRAP, THIS IS AWESOME!"

Prussia thrust his arms into the air and let the wind blow through his silver hair. He cackled his famous "kesesesese" and screamed with joy at the sun's warm rays washing over his pale skin.

Ukraine laughed as she stepped on the gas, forcing the car forward. It was a perfect summer afternoon as they drove down the highway, which was surprisingly bare. Framing the roads were fields of sunflowers stretching as far as the eye could see, all the way out to the horizon. It was beautiful, such a great sight compared to the frozen wasteland known as Russia's Soviet Union mansion. This was Paradise, no question.

"If only West, Italy, and Gilbird could see this!" Prussia shouted. He cackled again and brought his arms back down to his sides, a peaceful smile on his face. For the first time in many, many years, he was truly thankful.

Thankful that he had met Ukraine.

_"How do you expect us to leave the mansion?" Prussia asked, genuinely confused. "In case you haven't noticed, we're surrounded by police at every entrance and exit, and I can't cross the border anywhere. Russia's made sure of that. You better have some sort of invisibility superpower."_

_Ukraine smiled a bit slyly. "No, sadly, I don't have that. However, I do know all the patterns of every police movement as well as Russia's schedule during the summer. Every once in a while, he goes out to see the sunflower fields nearby. We just have to go in the opposite direction of where he goes."_

_Prussia was stunned but still a bit skeptical. "How are you going to be able to predict where he goes and when? Isn't that random?"_

_Ukraine winked. "You just got here. I've been in the Soviet Union for years. I know all the patterns of all the people involved. Being Russia's older sister is good for having access to all of his files concerning the movement of the police and guards." She paused to smile again and take in Prussia's surprised and impressed expression. "So?" she continued. "This summer, do you want to go to the beach with me?"_

"We're here!"

Prussia snapped out of his daydream and looked out the window of the car. The sunflower fields had finally ended, only to be replaced with a long stretch of white, sandy beach. How long had they been driving for? Did it even matter anymore? They had somehow managed to escape the Soviet Union, and now they were at the beach!

"It's so awesome!" Prussia cheered as he opened the car door and ran out towards the sand. He kicked his boots off and let the sand move between his toes. The feeling was absolutely incredible. He hadn't felt sand between his toes in ages! He turned back to Ukraine, who was pulling the suitcase full of their clothes from the back of the car. "I want to get into my swimsuit as soon as possible. Let's go swimming! And I want some wurst and a beer! Do they sell those here? They better!"

Ukraine laughed. "I'm sure they at least sell beer here. I can't guarantee that it's German beer, but, hey, it's still beer! Let's go to the house first so we can get settled and change." She went to pull the suitcase over her shoulder, but Prussia stopped her.

"...Let me get it," he insisted gently, taking the bag from her. Suddenly, he felt strange. He was offering help to someone other than his boss? No, wait, he hadn't even bothered to offer help to one of his bosses since his kingdom was dissolved in 1918! It felt weird but he was happy. He was happy to help her. After all, she had helped him.

Ukraine nodded. "Thank you. I'll show you where the house I rented is." She smiled and turned, heading down the beach until she came upon a small but charming house towards the edge. Without a word, she opened the front door and led Prussia inside. The living room was sparsely decorated but still had enough furniture to be comfortable. Prussia could see a tiny kitchen just beyond it. He assumed that down the single hallway to the right led to the bathroom and the bedroom.

...Bedroom? As in...one?

"Russia won't find us here," Ukraine murmured. "It's a nice place we'll be alone."

"I'll say," Prussia replied, a bit stunned.

"Um...so...let's get changed. And...don't worry. There are two bedrooms."

As soon as they were changed into their swimsuits, the two of them ran out to the beach and immediately jumped into the water. It was so refreshing, so wonderful! Prussia surfaced and ran his hands through his wet hair. He loved the way the water dripped to his shoulders, down his back and chest, and into the water. But he loved something else more.

He loved the way the water dripped down Ukraine's body.

* * *

It happened this way for every summer after that first trip in 1947. For a single day during the summertime, Ukraine snuck Prussia out of the mansion and took him to the beach. They always made sure to get back to the mansion before nightfall, because that was when Russia always got back from his excursions, wherever he went during the summer days. "I've got to go!" Ukraine would cry out, and the two of them would rush back home.

But that didn't stop them from having the time of their lives when they finally made it to the beach. As it turned out, the vendors at the beach did sell beer, German beer at that! They also sold hot dogs, which Prussia initially complained about. However, he soon realized that hot dogs were the closest thing he was going to get to German sausage. At least hot dogs had originated in Germany.

Secretly though, Prussia wished he could have more time alone with Ukraine. He couldn't deny the feelings bubbling up inside him. No one had ever made him feel this way before.

No woman anyway.

There wasn't much time though. If he wanted to do anything about these feelings, he would have to do it quickly and hurry up before Ukraine changed her mind about their summer trips. After all, Russia was starting to get a bit suspicious.

But Prussia knew better. This would go nowhere. He would never be more that Ukraine's summer boyfriend.

But he had to try anyway.

* * *

In the summer of 1989, Ukraine drove Prussia down to the beach, as usual. They were both unusually silent. The sky was a clear, bright blue. The sunflowers framing the road were large and cheerful. The air was clean and fresh. But something wasn't right. Ukraine felt tense, like Prussia was keeping something from her.

When they made it to the beach, they headed towards the house, as usual. Prussia silently took the suitcase to his bedroom and opened it, but Ukraine's usual swimsuit wasn't inside. "Did you remember your bathing suit?" he asked.

Ukraine nodded. "I brought it in a separate bag." She held it up for him to see and headed to her own room to change. She reemerged in Prussia's room a few minutes later.

Prussia's jaw hit the floor.

"Do you like it?" Ukraine asked nervously. Her cheeks were stained bright red, and she was visibly shaking. She had a hard time meeting Prussia's stunned gaze. "I...bought it just recently, for you to see."

Prussia had to slap himself to snap out of his trance. Ukraine was wearing a bikini, a bright red bikini with gold details at the ties on her back and hips. It somehow managed to cover her breasts enough, but it didn't leave much to the imagination.

And she looked damn incredible.

"You look awesome," Prussia breathed, smiling wide. "I love it."

Ukraine shrugged shyly but she at least smiled. "Thank you. You've always looked good in your shorts, by the way." Her blush intensified.

And Prussia could feel his cheeks color.

Without a moment to lose, the two of them ran out to the beach.

* * *

The sun was going down.

But they were still playing.

"I wanna play a game!" Prussia shouted excitedly, catching Ukraine's attention. It wasn't like she could be distracted though. They were the only ones there. "Let's see how long we can hold our breath underwater. The loser has to do whatever the winner wants!"

Ukraine giggled. "You're on! One, two, three!"

The two of them dunked their heads under the water and waited. The seconds slowly ticked by, slower and slower as the two began to lose air. Even though their eyes were closed under the water, they could tell that they were both coming towards the end of the game.

Suddenly, Prussia heard a splash. He had won! He thrust his head up above the water and inhaled deeply to get oxygen back into his lungs. As soon as he recovered, he cackled wildly and cheered. "I did it! I win!" He turned towards Ukraine but was met with her back.

Her bare back.

"Don't look!" she cried. "My bikini top fell off!"

Prussia's cheeks instantly turned bright red, almost as red as the bikini top floating in the water next to him. He stared down at it for a moment and then turned back to Ukraine who was trying to cover herself up while searching for it. Swallowing the lump rising in his throat, he spoke up. "I've got it...but you can't have it."

A shiver went down Ukraine's spine. "What? Don't play games with me Prussia, please!"

"I'm not," the albino replied. "I want you...to keep it off. That was the prize for winning the game, right? The loser has to do whatever the winner wants. I want you to keep the bikini top off...and I want to see." He instantly regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but he wasn't going to take them back. He had waited far too long to have Ukraine like this.

He wanted her.

He wanted her _badly._

Slowly and nervously, Ukraine turned around and exposed herself to Prussia. She turned her head away and shut her eyes tightly, ashamed of her body. She hated her chest. She always had. And Prussia was just after that. She knew it!

"You're beautiful."

Ukraine's eyes snapped open, and she whipped her head back towards Prussia to stare into his eyes. "What?" she gasped. "You can't be serious."

"I am," the man replied, his eyes wide with love. "You look awesomely beautiful." He reached out and touched Ukraine's arm, gently guiding her closer to him. "Let's...go back to the house."

* * *

"Ukraine...have you ever done this before?"

"No...but I trust you."

"...Okay. I'll be as gentle as I can."

* * *

Prussia awoke never feeling happier in his entire life. He could have sworn that he had had a smile on his face throughout the entire night. It was just that awesome!

Ukraine was that awesome.

"But..."

"OH, CRAP!"

Ukraine jumped out of the bed and ran to the suitcase. She threw as many things as she possibly could inside as tears rolled down her cheeks. She shouted several curses in Ukrainian and threw some clothes on her body.

Prussia knew what was wrong.

They had spent the night.

Russia.

"Oh, shit."

"We've got to go!"

* * *

It was dusk by the time they made it back.

Prussia slapped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sound of Ukraine's screams from just down the hallway. Reluctantly, Lithuania pulled his hands back down to his sides and forced him to listen, although it looked like the Baltic couldn't stand the sound either. Estonia and Latvia stood on either side of Prussia, holding him in place so he couldn't move. Prussia slowly looked up so he could stare at the door down the hallway of the mansion. Belarus stood in front of it, holding knives in her shaking hands. She had been placed on guard duty so that, if Prussia somehow managed to break free from the Baltics, he couldn't burst through the door and stop Ukraine's punishment.

The screaming seemed to go on for hours, though in reality, it only lasted a few minutes. Prussia didn't even realized when it was over, when the sounds had stopped. The whole mansion was eerily silent until the door clicked. Belarus stepped out of the way so her brother could emerge. When he did, Prussia wanted more than ever to kill him.

"Comrade Ukraine's punishment is over," the communist nation announced cheerfully. "I hope that it is a lesson to you, East Germany, to never try to cross me. If you leave my territory ever again, I can guarantee that you will meet the same fate." Smiling and giggling, Russia held up in pipe, which was covered in blood. Prussia stared down at his coat only to be met with more blood. He suddenly felt the urge to vomit, though he somehow kept it down. He did break free of the Baltic Trio's grip though, and he rushed forward.

But he passed Russia.

"Brother!" Belarus nearly cried. Russia shushed her.

"Pay no mind to him, Dear Sister. Our work here is done."

"...Yes, Brother."

Prussia couldn't hear the others leave. He stared down at Ukraine, who was badly beaten and still bleeding. Almost panicking, Prussia tore his uniform jacket off and wrapped it around the girl's body, trying to stop the bleeding. Luckily, it seemed to work, and Ukraine started to open her eyes.

"This is all my not-awesome fault," Prussia whispered. "I shouldn't have kept us at the beach. It was just because I wanted..."

"It was worth it."

Prussia's eyes snapped open wide. "You can't be serious," he gasped. "You were just beaten nearly to death by your bastard brother and you're saying that sex with me was worth it? God dammit, woman...I'm not THAT awesome!" Tears spilled out of his red eyes and dampened Ukraine's white shirt, mixing with the blood stains. He didn't bother to wipe them away. "Yes, I'm a total jerk and really arrogant and have a superiority complex...but I don't want people I care about to get hurt!"

Ukraine managed a tiny smile. "It makes me so happy...to know that you care about me."

"...I'm going to kill your brother," Prussia announced, dead serious. "I'm going to kill him for what he did to you...what he's done to everyone. He's a monster...the Devil himself..."

Ukraine's face suddenly turned bright red with rage, and she somehow found the strength to sit up and smack Prussia across the face. "Don't say that about my brother!" she screamed as tears welled up in her eyes. "I love my little brother with all my heart. I won't let you hurt him, no matter what he does to me or anyone!"

Prussia was about ready to snap. He rubbed the spot on his cheek where Ukraine had slapped him and turned to her with disbelieving eyes. "Bullshit," he spat. "You can't love someone who has tortured and oppressed and killed so many people!"

"WHAT ABOUT YOUR OWN BROTHER? HE'S NO SAINT."

A tense moment of silence passed between them before Prussia said, "That's low. That's really, really low."

"But it's true," Ukraine gasped softly. "You keep saying that my little brother has done horrible things to so many people, but you forget that your own little brother has blood on his hands, too. That may have been a long time ago, but it happened, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do to change it. Just as you love your little brother despite his sins...I love mine, regardless of what he's done." After a moment of silence and more tears, Ukraine spoke up again. "Tell me, Prussia...are our little brothers really so different?"

Prussia paled. His eyes were wide with realization, and he was visibly shaking. Silently, he reached out and brushed his thumbs across the bottoms of Ukraine's eyes, wiping the tears away. The action only caused more tears to fall from both of their eyes. Prussia wanted to speak, but he was scared of his answer. He knew the truth. He knew what he had to say, but he hated the way the word burned on the end of his tongue.

Finally, he said it.

"No."

* * *

The night of November 9, 1989, was understandably chilly, especially in the Soviet Union territory. Russia sat in his study, bundled up in his coat and scarf, going over a few documents while waiting for Prussia to come with his vodka. He was rather tense, dropping his pen every so often. Something wasn't right.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Surprised, Russia jumped up a bit in his chair but quickly grabbed the phone and regained his composure. "Hello?" he said, anxious. After listening to the other end for a moment, his eyes grew wide, and he began to shake. "What are you talking about?" he gasped, trying to keep himself under control. After another moment, he nearly broke out in a rage.

"WHY ARE EAST GERMANS DEMANDING TO CROSS THE WALL?"

_Crash! Splash!_

Russia looked up and stared into red, horrified eyes. Prussia had dropped the bottle of vodka in shock, and, for a moment, he couldn't comprehend what he had just heard. He stared at Russia, too scared to move.

But then he did.

"GET BACK HERE!" Russia screamed, grabbing his water pipe and rushing after the albino. "I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE THIS PLACE! EVER!"

Prussia ignored the threats and grabbed his coat from the closet at the front of the mansion. Running as fast as he possibly could, he rushed outside towards the Wall, his thoughts running just as quickly. Whenever he felt Russia's bloodlust creep up behind him, he ran faster. He had to. He had to get to the Wall. This was his only chance.

Eventually, Prussia could see a huge group of Germans gathered together at the Wall. They screamed out and demanded their freedom from the Soviet Union, and the officers were at a loss at what to do. Prussia couldn't hear them as he entered the crowd of people, trying to maneuver his way towards the front. If he could just lose Russia in this crowd at the very least, that would be enough until he could get to the other side.

But he didn't have to hope for that. In what seemed like a split-second, people were rushing towards the check booths and actually running through them with little to no identification needed! Prussia his heart jump up to his throat and beat wildly. He was going to be free!

But...

"UKRAINE!" he screamed, not caring if Russia heard him by this point. "UKRAINE! WHERE ARE YOU?" He fought against the massive wave of people to try to find the girl, hoping she was somewhere among them. The others from the mansion had probably heard of what was happening and rushed out to see. Yes, Prussia was sure of that. Ukraine just had to be around there somewhere! He turned towards the checkpoint to see if she was already on the other side.

"You've got to go."

Push.

West Berlin.

Prussia blinked and gazed at his surroundings. He was in West Berlin, meaning he could go to West Germany whenever he pleased. He was home. He was free.

"Ve! There he is!"

Prussia looked up and screamed out in joy. "ITALY!" He ran towards the little Italian and snatched him up in his arms, hugging him tightly. "Oh, my God, Italy, it's so awesome to see you! I missed you so much!"

"Ve, I missed you, too, Prussia!" Italy sobbed, digging his fingers into Prussia's back as he hung on for dear life. He was even reluctant to let go when others started showing up.

"Austria! Hungary!" Prussia gasped, rushing towards them and hugging the both of them close. "Oh, my God, I have NEVER been this happy to see you!"

"We've never been happy to see you," Austria sighed. But then he smiled and wrapped his arms around Prussia. "But we are now." Hungary nodded in agreement and clutched the albino's shoulders tightly.

"It wasn't the same," she cried. "It wasn't the same without you..."

Prussia smiled down at her and hugged her back. This was the most awesome welcoming party ever. It couldn't feel any better to be welcomed home.

Yes, it could.

Prussia looked up towards Italy.

Who was standing behind Germany.

Slowly, Prussia let go of Austria and Hungary, who let go of him in return. The albino took a step forward and stopped, wanting to see his brother's reaction. He saw Italy try to nudge the blond forward, but Germany was perfectly capable of moving on his own. He ran to Prussia, grabbed onto him, and sobbed.

"_Ich...liebe dich..._"

Suddenly, Italy burst into tears. "Those are the first words!" He tilted his head up to the night sky and wailed loudly, letting all of the emotions out. "Those are the first words he's spoken in forty-two years!"

And everyone was suddenly crying.

Prussia held his brother close and let all of the memories wash over him. This was Germany. The former Holy Roman Empire. His little brother. His sweet, innocent, adorable, loving little brother. He could see him again. He could hear him again. He could smell and feel him again. He was in his arms. They were together again. They were one. They could run Germany together, one as the East and the other as the West. Yes, it could work. They could be just like Veneciano and Romano. They could work together. They could be one.

"Little Brother," Prussia whispered, "let's go home."

Germany nodded and continued to cry, letting out years' worth of frustration and hardship. Forty-two years of built-up emotions burst forward in his cries, and he had never felt better.

Austria helped stand Germany up so the group could go back to the blond's house. Prussia sent him a nod of thanks and went to leave when something caught his eye. He looked back to the Wall and froze in his tracks.

"UKRAINE!" he screamed at the girl, motioning for her to come to him. "COME ON! CROSS THE BORDER! YOU CAN COME WITH US!"

Ukraine shook her head.

Prussia was aghast. "WHY NOT?" he continued to scream. He looked beyond Ukraine to see Russia standing just behind her. But instead of looking murderous, the man seemed to be at peace. He gently took his sister's shoulders, and the two began to walk away.

"_Я тебе кохаю!_"

Ukraine turned and gasped, her eyes wide.

"AND I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU!"

Ukraine nodded, letting tears slip from her eyes.

"_Preußen! Ich liebe dich!_ I'll wait!"

They grinned even as they grew further apart.

"We still have the summer after all!"

_Let's get lost._

_You can take me home._

_Somewhere nice we can be alone._

_Bikini top's comin' o-o-off!_

_Don't be sad when the sun goes down._

_You'll wake up and I'm not around._

_I've got to go, oh, oh, oh._

_We'll still have the summer after all._

END

**Translations:**

_Ich liebe dich. = _I love you. (German)

_Я тебе кохаю! = _I love you! (Ukrainian)

_Preußen!_ = Prussia! (German)


	25. DELUXE: Track 15: Disco Heaven

**Author's Note: **Welcome back to Gakuen Hetalia. Here's your finale!

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**Song: Disco Heaven**

"Welcome to Hetalia Academy's Spring Dance! I'm Tino Väinämöinen, your host and DJ for the evening! And this is my friend Berwald Oxenstierna, who returned to Hetalia Academy from Stockholm, Sweden. We'll be directing your entertainment for the night, right, Berwald?"

"...Y'p."

"YEAH! And now, in the words of Mother Monster herself, we invite you all to...JUST DANCE!"

The music exploded and so did the gymnasium. The students of Hetalia Academy unleashed their best dance moves, dancing together, apart, and to the music. The multicolored lights hanging from the ceiling lit up the dark dance floor and made it and the students' costumes sparkle. The costumes themselves were quite the spectacle alone.

"Nice intro, Tino!" Grandpa Rome praised the young junior, patting him on the back. "You both look great, too. These are outfits from the music video for 'Just Dance,' right?"

"Right!" Tino laughed. He was wearing a loose-fitting, white shirt that showed off his stomach and a black miniskirt with suspenders. Rome could see a bra with disco ball-like sequins covering his chest. On his feet were stilettos and on his head was a white naval hat. Next to him, Berwald was wearing a dark suit and sunglasses. It took Rome a moment to realize who he was.

"You're Colby O'Donis from the video!"

Berwald nodded. "M' w'fe w'nt'd m' t' do 't."

"Berwald! I'm not your wife!"

Rome laughed out loud. "You kids these days!" He grinned. "Keep it going, Tino. This is a great start." He waved to the DJs and headed out to the dance floor to find other students and their costumes. It was like a museum display of clothes!

"Grandpa!"

Rome turned and nearly fell to the ground, thanks to his young grandson. "Aw, Feli, look how adorable you are!" The little Italian was wearing a bikini-like, bright red, leather outfit with knee-high leather boots and a black police hat. Rome nearly melted at how adorable he looked, but his older grandson's outfit distracted him greatly. Lovino was dressed in black pants and a black bra with plastic guns glued to the chest. They exploded from the bra and poked out so far that Rome couldn't hug the boy. "That's quite the outfit, Lovi. Is that from a music video?"

"'Alejandro'," Lovino sighed. "And I wore it as protection, dammit!"

"Protection?" Rome repeated. "From who?"

Lovino turned and glared at Yong-Soo, who was dressed in black sweatpants with suspenders, leather, elbow-length gloves, and a leather hat. The Korean lifted his hands up to his head. "I'm not grabbing those, da ze," he confessed. "I don't want to die. That wasn't part of my love game, da ze. Your gun boobs totally did _not _originate in Korea."

"Good, dammit!" Lovino turned back to Feliciano and crossed his arms under the guns. He didn't notice when Yong-Soo started to sneak up behind the younger sibling. The Korean was just about to thrust his hands out when he nearly screamed in surprise. The others turned and saw that Germania of all people grabbing his chest. And he looked like nothing was amiss.

"This is so not right, da ze!" Yong-Soo almost sobbed. "No one has managed to claim me yet!" He ripped Germania's hands away and glared up at him.

Germania shook his head. "Don't you be glaring at me with those brown eyes of yours, young man. Your games is over."

Yong-Soo went to say something when his friend from Taiwan slapped her hands over his mouth. "That's enough out of you, stupid boy," she muttered. "You should have just studied your math that afternoon in study hall." She sighed heavily. "I don't know how I put up with you boys." Dressed in a white dress with lace falling from two large circles above her head, she dragged the Korean away from the Italians.

Lovino was about to shout some insult when Feliciano nearly squealed. "Ludwig! There you are!" He ran over and hugged the German, who was dressed in a long, plastic, red dress.

Lovino burst out laughing. "You look like a freak, potato bastard!"

"Look who's talking!" Ludwig shouted back. "You have AK-47s exploding from your boobs! I just grabbed the shower curtain from the upstairs bathroom and stapled it together into a dress."

"We match, Ludwig!" Feliciano giggled. "You told me you didn't want to wear matching outfits."

The German smiled. "I did it for you, Feli."

"...I love you, Ludwig! I really love you!" He jumped up and kissed him passionately. "And, hee," he continued when he broke away for air, "I think the outfit makes you look kinda gangsta." He giggled again and continued to kiss his boyfriend.

"Have at it, Feli!" Rome cheered. "I'll check in with you later!" He waved to his grandsons and continued through the crowd. Eventually, he came upon a table in the corner of the gym, where a girl was dealing out cards. She was dressed in a red leotard with a red, hooded jacket, and he didn't recognize her.

Luckily, someone did. "Hi, Rome!" Elizaveta greeted. She was dressed in a strapless, black dress with a triangle-shaped panel of sequins on the front. "How are you?"

"Doing well, Eliza, thanks," the vice principal replied, smiling. He pointed to the girl at the table. "Who is that? I haven't seen her before."

"Oh, she's going to be starting her time at Hetalia Academy next year actually," Elizaveta replied. "She's from Monaco so she's dealing the cards to anyone who wants to gamble. She can afford it, too, because she's dirty rich. She's pretty beautiful, too, don't you think?"

"All of the girls who attend this academy are beautiful! You are, too, Eliza!"

The Hungarian giggled and blushed. "That's so sweet, Rome, thank you! I'm going to go find Roderich, okay? Later!" She waved and ran off.

Rome turned his attention back to the table when he heard a frustrated shout. "STUPID COMMIE!" Alfred screamed at Ivan. "YOU CHEATED, DIDN'T YOU?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "First of all, Alfred, Russia is not a communist country anymore, da. Second, I did not cheat. Ask her."

"He didn't," the girl from Monaco sighed as she shuffled the deck. "Trust me, I would be able to tell. He's just good at these games." She paused to smirk. "And you gotta admit that his poker face is fantastic."

"The commie cheated, I'm telling you!"

"...Did you hear anything we just said, da?" The Russian sighed and crossed his arms. He was dressed in a skin-tight, one piece, leather outfit covered with crystal-like objects on the shoulders. He was also wearing a pair of leather gloves and a leather, skin-tight hat with more of the crystal objects. Shaking his head, Ivan went to stand to leave the idiotic American alone when he stopped dead in his tracks.

"BROTHER."

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

Natalia jumped out from underneath the poker table, also dressed in leather. Her dress was short, and the straps just barely covered her breasts and met at her neck. They seemed to be choking her. Rome noticed that she wore just one large lightning bolt earring. The little Belarusian pulled a camera out from behind her back and aimed it at her older brother. "You look like a celebrity," she hissed. "And if you're a celebrity, that makes me your biggest fan. I'M YOUR PAPARAZZI." With that, she started snapping pictures like crazy, chasing Ivan all over the dance floor.

"LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOOOOOONE!"

Alfred laughed like crazy. "Stupid commie got what he deserved!"

Behind him, Arthur coughed. "Git, he's not a communist. And what in the bloody hell are you WEARING?"

Alfred frowned. "What's the matter with a dress made out of meat?" he asked innocently. "It's not the strangest thing here at this dance. Granted, I was originally going to turn all this into hamburgers, but I had enough meat in stock to make a whole outfit."

The Brit paled. "How much meat do you normally have in your fridge?"

"Hey, I don't eat all of it. Mattie eats some of it, too."

"Who?"

"Me, maple..."

Arthur looked to his side and nearly screamed at the top of his lungs. "Matthew, BLOODY HELL, how long we you STANDING there?" He held his hands over his heart and tried to steady its beating. The Canadian had seriously shocked him!

"I was here the whole time, eh?" Matthew said quietly, smiling softly. "Um, I like your costume, Arthur. It's very nice."

Arthur finally calmed down and grinned. He was dressed in a patterned dress with a corset-like contraption around his middle. The dress was also covered in black feathers and featured half of a gold mask with a black lace hat. He looked like something out of a steampunk comic. "Thank you kindly, Matthew. You look good, too."

Matthew was dressed very simply. His outfit consisted of a blue tank top with tiny, blue shorts. It wasn't much but it was appropriate for the quiet Canadian. "Thank you, Arthur. Mine isn't as elaborate as yours though. Nothing else really to it, eh?"

"Nonsense!" the Brit replied. "At least you're more sensibly dressed than your idiot brother."

"You were just looking at me like you were starstruck!" Alfred shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the English boy. "Admit it, Artie, me covered in raw meat is hot. You know it is."

Arthur blushed bright red. "Stupid git!" he shouted. "Don't say things like that!"

"I say he can say things like that!"

Arthur looked down and gasped. "Peter! What are YOU doing here? You don't even go to this school. Fool, you're not even old enough to APPLY to go to this school!"

"But Berwald is my baby-sitter, and he said that I could come, jerk!" the little boy asserted, slapping Arthur's legs.

Rome finally spoke up. "Arthur, who is this?"

"He's my stupid little cousin," the Brit sighed, trying to push Peter away. "He follows me around all the time back in London, and he believes that this abandoned structure out in the middle of the ocean is a nation. He's an attention whore, but he does all this just for the fame."

"I do not!" Peter retorted as he continued to slap Arthur's legs.

Alfred interrupted them both. "Peter, what the heck are you wearing?"

The little boy paused in his attacks for a moment to grin. "I gathered up all my old stuffed animals and stapled them together into a dress! I didn't have enough money to go out and buy a bunch of the same stuffed animals."

"That's not what's important right now!" Arthur shouted. He looked up at Rome and pleaded, "PLEASE make my stupid cousin go home, Rome. I'm begging you!"

"Aw, I don't see why the boy has to go home," the vice principal replied, smiling. "He's fine just the way he is. He's already here so making him go home would be harsh." He laughed when Arthur started screaming at him while Peter cheered out of pure joy.

"I'll keep him away from you if you want," came a familiar voice. Arthur turned and his eyes widened.

"Hey, aren't you that guy from Denmark who graduated last year?"

"Yeah, that's me! Since Berwald was coming back for the dance, I figured that I would, too, so I hitched a ride with him." He, too, was dressed for the occasion. He wore a dress made from several layers of sparkling, translucent, plastic cords spun into circles. In one of his hands was a spiked, silver ball. The Dane bent down at snatched the little boy up in his arms. "You can hang out with me for the rest of the night, Peter. Better to be with someone awesome than some silly Brit."

"Yeah!" Peter laughed. "Thank you!" He hugged the Dane tightly and squealed as he was brought back out to the dance floor. Along the way, he bumped into someone, causing the Dane to accidentally drop the silver ball. He went to pick it up when someone else grabbed it.

"You drop this?"

The Dane looked up and grinned. "You're that kid from the Netherlands, right? You're graduating this year?"

The Dutch boy nodded. "Yeah, here." He handed the ball back to the Dane and tilted his head. "Would have been better if it was rough."

"Huh?"

"Then you would have a better hold on it."

"Oh yeah, thanks! You look great, by the way!"

The Dutch boy grinned. He was dressed simply, too, much like Matthew. He was wearing a pair of white pants with white suspenders going over his shoulders. He was shirtless but he was wearing a white jacket over the suspenders. "Thanks. Your outfit is cool, too."

Rome smiled. He loved watching students interact, especially when they met for the first time. Hetalia Academy prided itself on admitting students from all over the world, so when students met, it was like a miniature conference or peace talk. Rome loved it when students made connections that way.

"Well, I'm going to see who else is around," he finally said to Arthur and Alfred. "Have fun!" He waved to them and headed to another part of the gym. He spotted Elizaveta again, along with someone who looked like Vash. The scene was confusing to Rome though. "I want to say that it's Vash, but it looks too much like a girl..." The person before him was in a light blue maid's outfit, complete with an apron and plenty of ribbons. The person looked great, even if it wasn't a Lady GaGa-inspired outfit, but who was it?

A conversation between Elizaveta and the mystery boy/girl answered him. "So how did you get to make the dance this amazing?"

"That's the power of money, honey."

Oh yeah, that was definitely Vash.

"OH, MY GOD."

It seemed that someone else had discovered this, too. Roderich stood before Elizaveta and Vash, his face white as if he had seen a ghost. Elizaveta stared at him, confused, and then looked back at Vash, who wore a devious smirk.

"So I'm that cute, am I, Roderich? Cute enough that you'd like me to serve you tea and cake?"

"Oh...my..."

Suddenly, Elizaveta was in Roderich's face, her own face bright red and eyes twinkling with excitement. "What happened between you two, huh?" she asked, bouncing up and down in her spot. "Come on, Roderich, tell me! You can trust me!"

The Austrian finally found his voice. "I most certainly cannot!" he shouted, a deep blush blooming on his face. "I'm just...Oh, my God, this is too much..."

Vash allowed himself a chuckle. "So worth the dress. So worth it."

At that moment, Kiku walked by and gasped. This was an opportunity for more photos! He reached into his pocket but found nothing. Surprised, Kiku looked into his pocket but still didn't see his camera. Where was it at such a crucial moment? He turned to see if he had dropped it and ran over to the wall, where, sure enough, he found his camera.

In Heracles's hands.

The Japanese boy blushed bright red and visibly shook as Heracles scrolled through the memory on the camera. Every single photo he had taken was seen. Kiku could see Heracles's eyes growing wider with every picture, and the Greek boy's cheeks started flushing pink.

After he was done, Heracles set the camera back to normal and looked up. He stared at Kiku straight in the eye and said, "You've been a very bad boy. A very, _very_ bad, _bad_ boy, Kiku."

"Heracles-san..."

"Why didn't you record anything?"

"...What?"

"Don't you have video on here?"

"No..."

Heracles dug into his own pocket and pulled out a gadget, offering it to Kiku. "Use my video phone. It automatically records in high definition."

Kiku's eyes were the size of ramen bowls as he reached out and shakily took the phone. "I love you," he gasped. "I love you...How do you say that in Greek?"

Heracles smiled. "Don't worry about it."

Rome decided not to bother them, though he desperately wanted to ask them about their outfits. Kiku was wearing a black and white striped dress that looked to be made from duct tape. Heracles wore denim shorts and a silky, royal blue jacket covered in gemstones. Rome figured that the two outfits were taken from the "Telephone" music video. Heracles must have been playing the part of Beyonce while Kiku played GaGa. But the two were preoccupied with that camera and video phone, so Rome decided to leave them alone.

He was soon bothered. "Rome!" came the distressed voice of Toris. The Lithuanian boy ran up to the vice principal, despite the red heels he was sporting. He was also dressed in red lace that even covered his face. A spiky, red hat sat on his head. "Rome, can you help me please? I can't find Feliks anywhere!"

Rome's eyes narrowed. "Really? That's so strange. I thought that Feliks would be the one partying the most at this dance."

"That's what I thought, too, but I can't find him anywhere!"

Suddenly, the music stopped playing, and the lights went out. Students screamed at the sudden loss of light, leaving them in the pitch black darkness. Rome looked up but couldn't see anything. At this rate, it would be impossible to find a way to put the lights back on and continue the dance. Something must have been wrong with the circuits. Maybe a fuse blew.

But then, Rome and the others heard something that seemed to be coming from a microphone.

_"Rah...rah...ah...ah...ah..."_

Rome looked up towards the stage and gasped. There was no way that this could be happening.

_"Roma...roma...ma..."_

The students, one by one, realized what was going on. At least they hoped it was what they thought it was. Could it be?

_"Ga...ga...ooh...la...la..."_

Yes, it could.

_"WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE!"_

The gymnasium suddenly exploded with light and sound, and it blew the audience away. Up on the stage, next to Tino's DJ booth, was none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt, Francis Bonnefoy, and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, all dressed in outfits from the "Bad Romance" music video.

"Do you really think we'd EVER leave Hetalia Academy behind, huh?" Gilbert shouted into the microphone. "The Bad Touch Trio is way too awesome to let that happen. We know how much you loved our performance last year, so we're back for an encore! SING ALONG, LITTLE MONSTERS, YOU KNOW THE LYRICS!"

And sing along they did. Antonio stepped out first, just as he had done last year, and sang the first verse with the audience, swinging his hips as he did. He was wearing the black dress from the first part of the music video, complete with the sunglasses and pointy hat.

Gilbert then moved to the front and sang the second verse. His singing and dancing were both incredible, and the gems on his outfit helped. He wore the little, white shorts covered in gemstones and had several more gems covering his chest and shoulders. He wore even more on his head, covering his ruby eyes. The stones seemed to make him glow on stage. That mixed with his rough voice and the catchy lyrics made his performance even more memorable than the last.

Of course, Feliks quickly appeared behind Gilbert and pranced out towards the front of the stage. _"Walk, walk, fashion, baby, work it, move that bitch, c-razy,"_ he sang. He was wearing a translucent dress, one in the same style as the one from the bathtub scene in the music video. Of course, it had the Polish boy's own special touch, as it was pink.

Finally, Francis took center stage and sang in his native tongue for a few lines. Then he switched back to English and completed the song. His outfit was that of red fabric and lace cutouts covering his body. It looked fantastic on him as he finished the song.

_"WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE!"_

The audience burst into applause as the four boys took their bows and thanked the crowd. Tino switched back to the regular music at the booth, and the dance resumed as normal. Gilbert was the first of the boys to run into the crowd, especially when he spotted an outfit he loved.

"The bubble dress looks great on you!" he shouted as he ran up to a girl. "But why haven't I seen you before? Who are you?"

The girl blushed. "I...graduated last year. I'm Ivan's older sister."

"You are?" Gilbert asked, a bit stupefied. "Wow, you so don't act like that psycho." He suddenly grinned. "I like you! We should do something this summer!"

"Oh...okay." The girl gave him a soft smile and nodded.

Rome witnessed the meeting and turned away, deciding to give them a little alone time. They made a sweet couple, so he figured it was only appropriate he let them have their time.

Eventually, Rome made it outside to the cool nighttime air. He took a deep breath and looked ahead, only to see a girl standing in front of the outside gym doors. "Hey, you'll miss the entire dance if you stay out there!" he called.

The girl looked up at him. "Oh, no, I'm not a student here. I just heard about The Monster Ball and thought it was a Lady GaGa concert," she explained, smiling a bit. "Looks like I was wrong. I'll go now." She turned and headed off but not before calling back, "I think the DJ should play some disco tunes. That would make it heaven in there!" She giggled as she ran off.

Rome was about to head back inside when a sudden thought came to mind. He looked back to the spot where he had seen the girl, but she was gone. He stared hard at the spot and gasped, realizing a possibility.

"Was it...? Could it be...?"

Silence.

"...Nah!"

And he ran back into the gym to suggest a disco track to Tino.

_Oh, the light's still on; we're dancing._

_Yeah, the floor is shaking in this disco heaven._

_(Oh, this disco heaven.)_

_This disco heaven._

_(Oh, this disco heaven.)_

_Oh, the light's still on; we're dancing._

_Yeah, the floor is shaking in this disco heaven._

_(Oh, this disco heaven.)_

_This disco heaven._

_(Oh, this disco heaven.)_

END

Author's Note: Stick with me for not one but TWO BONUS TRACKS!


	26. DELUXE BONUS: Video Phone

**Author's Note: **There's another poll up in my profile, this time about _The Hetalian Fame._ I would appreciate it if you took a moment to answer it.

**Title: I Am...A Hetalian**

**Song: Video Phone**

No, seriously, for real. Island nations were not supposed to be contacted this much.

The World Meeting had been unproductive, as usual. Germany had announced right away that the nations had gathered there to discuss ways to get the global economy back on track, but America had interrupted him right away to shamelessly plug The Rally to Restore Sanity and The March to Keep Fear Alive. This had caused Italy to cry out in terror and beg for Germany to save him from the scary march, to which America cheered that the march was working. Romano had then threatened to send more mobsters to America's place, but he was quickly distracted when Spain shoved a tomato in his mouth to keep him occupied. Some of the tomato bits had landed on Austria, who nearly screamed at the concept of his lovely clothes becoming dirty. Hungary almost smacked him with her frying pan. Latvia shook in fear at the mere thought of being panned and eventually passed out, to which Estonia screamed at the top of his lungs and suddenly jerked his chair. The force had caused Lithuania, who was sitting next to him, to bump into Poland, who threw a temper tantrum since the shove had caused the nail polish brush to slip and get pink polish all over his fingers. Not only that, but his lovely nails were ruined, and the bottle toppled, letting the liquid leak all over the table. Bulgaria just shook his head in disgust. Netherlands, however, was fully captivated by the pink polish and wondered how cute Belgium would look in said color. That was when South Korea started ranting about how colors had originated in Korea and accused everyone of stealing his color designs. When China tried to calm him down, the Korean latched onto him, and China needed Vietnam to pry him off his body, specifically his chest, with her oar.

Very unproductive indeed.

But it wasn't like Greece cared. He was asleep before Germany even began speaking.

That was why he didn't hear Germany announce that the meeting was over. Or, rather, he didn't hear Germany shout in frustration about how everyone couldn't shut up for two seconds and drag a sobbing Italy out the double doors of the meeting room. The others had taken that as a sign that the meeting was over and gathered their things together to leave.

Before Japan left, he approached the sleeping nation. "Greece-san?" he said quietly. "Greece-san, the meeting is over. We have to go."

Greece lazily opened his eyes, stretched, and stood. A cat latched onto his shirt and refused to move until he agreed to let it lie on his head as he walked out of the room. "Thanks for waking me," he murmured as he yawned again.

Japan nodded and walked with his friend out the door. "It's nothing, really. By the way, are you busy over the next few days?"

Greece scratched the cat on his head as the two made their way down the stairs to the main level. "No, why?"

Japan just winked.

The message was loud and clear.

"There's a flight to Tokyo this afternoon," Japan said as the two made their way to the main exit of the building. "We should make it there by tomorrow afternoon, with the time change and all."

Greece nodded. "I hope there's still a seat in the back."

Japan's face immediately fell. "Greece-san, there is absolutely no reason why you should fly in the back of the plane. You should sit up front with me. Or...oh, my goodness, please don't tell me I did something rude last time we were on a plane next to each other. Did I snore or something?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I just thought that I would get a seat in the back to...save some money."

"...You sound like Switzerland-san."

"Yeah, and I hate it."

"But what can you do when your economy sucks beyond belief!"

An angry shiver went down Greece's spine, and his hair stood on end. He knew that loud, obnoxious voice all too well. "Shut up, stupid Turk," he muttered as he opened the exit door. "This had nothing to do with you, Mr. I Couldn't Get into the EU to Save Myself."

Turkey smirked smugly. "Hey, I may not be able to use the Euro yet, but at least my currency isn't failing me. And at least _my_ economy isn't worse than _America's_."

Another angry shiver. Turkey knew _exactly _where Greece's buttons were, and he knew just how to press them.

Greece was just about to fight back when Japan spoke up. "Turkey-san, I'm afraid that I have to agree with Greece-san on this. This is something for him to figure out on his own, and he is a good person for wanting to save money wherever he can. That means that he has his country's best interest in mind. Now, if you'll excuse us..." He bowed quickly and opened the exit door, taking Greece's arm and bringing him outside.

Once away from Turkey, Japan opened his (new) cell phone and dialed the airport. As the phone rang, he smiled up at his friend. "I'll pay for your seat up front. That way you can save even more money."

"Japan..."

"Shh, I insist. Only...animals aren't allowed on the flight."

"Meow!"

* * *

Their outfits were perfect.

Japan slipped a red and black striped, zip-up sweatshirt covered with safety pins over a leather, corset-like top. Underneath it was a fishnet shirt that covered his arms and ended around his hands. Each of his fingers showed off a ring, each one in a different size and style. A spiked choker decorated his neck, and the spikes themselves were long, sharpened, and dangerous. An ornate cross also dangled from his neck. The jeans were dark, torn up, and covered with patches designed with different, anime-like characters. The shoes were large and clunky, as usual, but they were more like clogs than boots. Japan placed the wig with the black, gray, and blond hair flying all over the place on his head and then went to work applying his make-up. He aimed to look as pale as possible and yet made his eyes are dark as possible.

Greece buttoned a white shirt covered in red bloodstains. He then slipped a studded leather jacket over it and added several metal bracelets to his wrists. They were under the yellow and black striped, fingerless gloves he wore, which matched his painted nails. Around his neck, he had painted several stitches and written several kanji (with Japan's help, of course). His jeans were faded and torn at the knees with safety pins and chains to hold them together. His shoes were leather boots that reached to just under his knees. The wig he wore had orange and blond hair curled to the left so that the hair on the right stood up in little spikes.

"All set."

Japan finished his make-up and looked at his friend. He narrowed his eyes slowly. "It's missing something," he announced. He then snapped his fingers, opened a drawer at his desk, and pulled out a surgical mask. "Put this on."

Greece did as he was told and looked in the mirror. "Wow," he mused, "that does look better."

"I knew it! It goes along with the blood theme you've got going on."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now let's go! Stay here and be good, okay, Pochi? Keep any kitties who come by company."

"Woof!"

Japan led Greece out of his Tokyo home and guided him through the different parts of the city until they made it to Shinjuku. Once there, they headed towards a rather small club on a dark corner where the most devoted of Visual Kei fans hung out.

"Are you opening for anyone tonight?" Greece asked absentmindedly as they made it to the front entrance.

Japan shook his head. "My band mates are out for the weekend. I'm not playing tonight, but we will get to see Dir En Grey perform!"

"Nice." Greece smirked under the mask. "I hear that Kyo is performing with Finland's Apocalyptica in the US these days."

Japan's eyes seemed to sparkle as they were allowed into the club. "Isn't it amazing? And the band is back in Japan for only a few nights to perform for their diehard fans. That was why I wanted to be sure you were free for the next few days." He led Greece through the thick crowd of fans towards the stage to get a better look at the opening act, but Greece stopped him before he could move too close.

"Wait," he gasped, "something's not right."

Japan looked back at him in horror. "What's wrong?"

Greece's eyes shifted in all directions, the rest of his body not moving an inch. Japan was actually thoroughly surprised and impressed that the Greek man was so focused concentrating so hard, since he could most often be found sleeping or thinking about cats. Whatever was wrong had to be serious.

And then, out of nowhere Greece grabbed Japan and shoved him behind a speaker. Japan yelped in surprise, but Greece quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't say anything," he commanded. "Dammit, I knew it. This is horrible. I _knew_ I smelled that disgusting cologne in the air..."

Japan managed to move the fingers away from his mouth. "Smelled what?"

Greece seemed to be in pain as he spoke. "That idiot Turk is here."

"TURKEY-SA-!" Greece slapped his hand over Japan's mouth again.

"Quiet!" he shushed. In retrospect, it was quite the silly order to give, seeing as they were in the middle of a club with pounding music and screaming fans, but it made sense at the time. Japan could feel Greece's fingers shaking over his mouth, and stared up at his friend. After a moment of silence between them, he moved the other man's hand again.

"Do you want to go to another club?" he asked. "There are plenty of places open with good bands on a Saturday night."

Greece shook his head. "I'm not giving up a chance to see Dir En Grey."

Japan nodded. "I hoped you would say that. I don't want to miss them either. It's not that I don't mind them going to America-san's place, but I don't want to have to go to America-san's in order to see them."

"Understandable," Greece groaned and slumped against the cold stone wall. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "So what do we do? I'm not going to be able to enjoy myself if I know that bastard is here, even if he doesn't recognize us."

At this, Japan smirked. "I think there's a way we can have some _fun_ while messing with Turkey-san, and we don't have to miss the performance." He leaned towards Greece's ear and whispered his plan. At first, Greece frowned and wanted to object, but he liked what he heard the more Japan spoke. Once his friend pulled away, he smirked, too.

"I like it."

"Go start your part. I'll do mine when the moment is right."

Greece nodded and crawled out from their hiding place. He stood and, very casually, began walking in Turkey's general direction. Luckily, he was at the bar, so he was easier to approach than if he was in the crowd. Narrowing his eyes and smirking under the surgical mask, Greece finally made it to the empty seat next to his rival and sat down in the sexiest, most seductive way he could. Just from that move alone, Turkey was already caught.

"Evening," he began, winking.

Turkey's cheeks lit up behind his mask. "Good evening," he managed. "...Can I buy you a drink?"

Greece's smirk widened. _He doesn't recognize me. I owe Japan big time for this mask._ "Sounds wonderful. You've already done right. You just cancelled every other person here." He laughed a bit when Turkey frantically called the bartender over and asked for two drinks. "Sounds great to me."

"So, uh," the Turkish man began, stumbling a bit, "I noticed that you speak English. Are you...not from around here?"

_So he can't even tell that I'm not Japanese? Well, the lights in here are a bit dim. I'll give him that much, but, seriously, I owe Japan for this mask._ "I'm from...an island far away from here."

"Like Okinawa?"

Greece almost burst out laughing.

At that moment, the bartender set down the two drinks and took the tip from Turkey. Greece lifted his glass and motioned it towards the man in a gesture of thanks. However, he made sure not to move the surgical mask until Turkey was too focused on his own drink to pay attention. The alcohol was a bit weak, but it still left a nice taste in Greece's mouth. Smiling, he placed the surgical mask back in its place and turned back to Turkey, who was staring at his hands.

"I...like the color of your nails." He immediately looked away and blushed a bit, not meeting Greece's amused gaze.

This was way too much fun. _This must be how Japan felt when I couldn't recognize him at the club that one time. I can see why he kept it up as long as he did._ "Enough with the small talk," Greece suddenly snapped. "I want to make sure you remember me."

"...What?"

"Do you have a video phone?" came Japan's voice. Turkey looked back at him, and his eyes widened in surprise. He obviously didn't recognize the Japanese man, and he certainly was not expecting the man sitting next to him to have brought a friend. Quickly, he jerked his stare to his pocket and ripped out his phone.

"Yeah, it records," he replied, looking a bit unsure. "But...what do you need a recording for?"

Japan smirked. "You'll see.

With that, Greece and Japan stood and made their way towards the restroom. Turkey went to follow them, but Greece stopped him. "Nope," he said playfully, "you stay right there. We'll be right back."

* * *

They didn't return for nearly fifteen minutes.

When the video phone returned to Turkey's hands, he felt as though he may as well be holding something holy. He checked the phone's memory and, sure enough, found a new recording. Shaking slightly, he looked up at Japan.

"Hubba hubba," the small man stated bluntly, smirking the whole time. "This is one sexy performance that deserves an Oscar."

Turkey seemed to be doing his best Latvia impression.

"And," Japan continued, leaning close to Turkey's ear, "when you're lonely, just remember that you've always got..._us_...with you."

Neither Greece nor Japan had ever seen someone run so fast out of a club.

"Huh," Greece murmured, "if nothing else, that idiot's at least good at running. I wonder why he hasn't won all the track competitions at the Olympics."

Japan just smiled and turned towards the stage. "Perfect timing," he announced, crossing his arms. "The opening act just ended."

Greece smirked. "From Mykonos to Samos, Crete to Santorini, I've been waiting for this."

"Did Turkey-san seriously ask you if your home island was Okinawa?"

"Yes, yes, he did."

The two burst out laughing and ran towards the stage.

* * *

The next day, Turkey emerged from his hotel in Tokyo, tired and not wanting to do anything. However, he needed breakfast, and he figured that a nice, big cup of coffee would do him well. He trudged off down the busy streets of Shinjuku in search of a nearby coffee shop.

"What a night," he muttered, fishing around his pocket for his phone. When he found it, he brought it towards his face and glared. "You kept me up. That little show you recorded was too much for me. Good God, if I ever see those two again..."

Sighing, Turkey shoved the phone back into his pocket and looked up. Standing across the street from him next to a breakfast restaurant was Japan in a simple, blue kimono and Greece in his regular day clothes. Turkey frowned. "So Japan bought him a plane ticket here after all, huh? Spoiled brat." He went to cross the street to give Greece a piece of his mind when a thought struck him.

That height...those facial features, the ones he could make out anyway...What would Greece look like with orange and blond hair? What if that white t-shirt had blood stains on it? And what if those fingernails were painted?

The two nations grinned ear to ear when they heard a frantic, panic charge in the opposite direction.

"We did it, Hera-chan. Now let's head far, far away from here."

"You promise we won't go back to that club unless Dir En Grey is playing again?"

"...I promise."

_Them hustlas keep on talkin'._

_They like the way I'm walkin'._

_You saying that you want me_

_So press record, I'll let you film me._

_On your video phone, make a cameo._

_Tape me on your video phone._

_I can handle you._

_Watch me on your video phone, on your video, video_

_If you want me, you can watch me on your video phone._

END


	27. DELUXE BONUS: CD Booklet

**Author's Note: **Well, we've finally made it to the end. Here is the last track of _The Hetalian Monster_ and _The Hetalian Fame_, the conclusion to this story and the finale of this epic CD collection. We're back in Gakuen Hetalia. Let's finish where we began.

**Title: The Hetalian Fame**

**CD Booklet**

"OH, MY GOD, THAT WAS AWESOME!"

Gilbert ran out to the parking lot next to Hetalia Academy and threw his arms into the air, laughing like crazy. Francis and Antonio followed behind him, laughing along. Their laughter resonated in the dark of the night, the cool spring air slightly chilling them just enough so their skin started to shiver. It didn't help that the three of them were still in their outfits from the dance that evening.

"Kesesesesese, we were so awesome," the German repeated, much calmer this time and yet still very excited. "I'll bet that no one was expecting us to appear on stage and perform again. We have SO cemented our place in Hetalia Academy's history as being the most awesome trio to ever enter those hallways."

"I was so surprised when Vash called me a few weeks ago," Francis added, walking to the side of Antonio's car. "I always thought that he didn't like me...or any of us for that matter!"

"_Si_, I was surprised, too," Antonio admitted, fishing his keys from the dress pocket. "I was studying in my apartment next to the university campus back home in Madrid, and, all of a sudden, my cell phone goes off! I answer it and it's none other than our non-_amigo_ Vash! I didn't think he even HAD my cell phone number! Ah, here." He finally grabbed his keys and opened the car so he and his friends could get inside and turn the heat on.

"Like, wait!"

The trio looked up and saw Feliks and a few other students rushing towards them. The Polish boy stopped in front of the car before anyone could get inside. Panting a bit and fixing his hair, Feliks spoke, "Like, thanks for letting me know that Vash wanted us to perform again. And I totally thank you for letting me be a part of it again."

Antonio grinned. "Anytime! An encore performance of 'Bad Romance' wouldn't be the same without you to sing about runway walks."

"Yeah, I'm glad you guys contacted Feliks, too," Vash admitted. "But don't go thinking we're friends all of a sudden! I just didn't want the dance to be a total failure, and you idiots were the cheapest act I could get!"

Francis raised an eyebrow. "We did the performance for free."

"Exactly!"

Gilbert suddenly cackled. "Aw, don't get your frilly panties in a bunch, Swissy. You know that no other performers would ever be as awesome as we are. Admit it! And, heh, kesesesesese, I think you should run back to Roddy. He wants his tea and cake...unless you gave him a heart attack with that little drag show of yours."

_Click. Cha-ching!_

"Do you WANT me to shoot you?"

"...Are you even ALLOWED to have a gun on campus?"

"I say he can!" Alfred interrupted. "Second Amendment rights are awesome!"

"Bloody git, we're NOT in America!"

"Alright, alright, break it up," came Germania's voice as he and Grandpa Rome walked towards the group. The tall, intimidating man crossed his arms and glared at the students. "The dance is over. You who are still students here need to get back to your homes and apartments. You still have class on Monday. Gilbert, don't go wreaking havoc on this poor town, okay?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You're no fun, Gramps."

"_Bruder_, just listen to what _Großvater _says, okay?" Ludwig pleaded as he passed by the group with Feliciano. "You can be crazy when you go back to Berlin, but _please_ don't destroy the entire eastern side once you get there, okay?"

"Damn it, West, that was ONE TIME!"

"And don't come to Ludwig's house!" Feliciano shouted as he and his German boyfriend walked home. "Not unless you wanna see a German sausage and the Leaning Tower of Pisa!"

"_FELICIANO!"_

Grandpa Rome smiled stupidly. "Ah, kids these days...Isn't youth such a wonderful thing? I remember I got plenty of action when I was Feli's age. So nice to see he's following in my footsteps." He turned towards his grandson and shouted, "Don't you worry about a thing, Feli! I'll keep Lovi locked in the basement tonight so he doesn't disturb your pasta/wurst time!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU BIG, STUPID-!"

Rome slapped a hand over his older grandson's mouth. "Now, now, Lovi, I made sure Feli didn't bother you whenever you and Antonio had pizza/tomato time."

Antonio brightened and nodded. "_Si,_ that is very true! It's only fair!"

Meanwhile, Gilbert was recording the whole scene on his phone. "Hello, new most popular blog entry..."

Suddenly, Rome sighed. "I hope that girl from earlier made it home okay."

Francis looked up. "There was a girl around here? Did you know her?"

Rome shook his head. "I had never seen her before. I originally thought that she was a student here, but she said she wasn't. Then she told me to request a disco-themed track from Tino and ran off. I hope she got home okay."

Francis started to go on about how such a poor, defenseless, beautiful girl was out on her own in the middle of the night and how he should have gone with her to see her home safely. "And then I should have made sure she safely made it to her bed..."

"Like, what did she look like?" Feliks asked.

Rome scratched his head. "Uh...let's see...blond hair, green eyes...She was kinda short but was wearing these crazy heels. She spoke with a bit of a strange accent, kinda like a mix of how Alfred and Feli talk..."

The world was silent until Feliks paled and screamed at the top of his lungs, causing everyone to jump nearly five feet in the air. "LIKE, OH, MY GOD, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?" he cried as he sped off towards the streets. "WAIT FOR ME, MAMA MONSTER, I'M COMING WITH YOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"

And he was gone.

The group was silent until Heracles spoke. "I should call my mother and tell her we need to modify the track events in the Olympics. All of the competitors should wear heels. I think Feliks would take home the gold...Yeah, Mother definitely needs to talk with the Olympic committee, and I need to get Feliks to come to the event."

Everyone agreed.

"Oh, look," Gilbert murmured, bending over. "Feliks dropped something." He picked the object up, and his eyes widened. "He dropped his _The Fame_ CD!"

"Feliks would definitely want that back as soon as possible, _non_?" Francis commented.

Gilbert looked in the direction in which Feliks had run. "Doesn't look like I'm going to be seeing him anytime tonight. I'll give it back to him tomorrow."

"_Oui_, that sounds good. Right now, I want to get in the car. I'm freezing here!"

"Good idea, _amigo_. _Buenas noches_, Everyone!"

"_Bonne nuit!_"

"_Gute Nacht!_"

The trio waved to the crowd and got into Antonio's car. Francis sat in the passenger's seat up front while Gilbert was perfectly content sitting in the back all alone. Actually, he was. As Antonio started the car and drove off towards the trio's hotel, Gilbert opened the CD and took out the booklet. He was always so obsessed with _The Fame Monster_ that he hadn't looked over the original CD booklet for _The Fame_ in a long time. He opened the booklet and read against the low light of the light poles outside.

(Separate notes begin here.)

Track 1: Finland, featuring Sweden, performs "Just Dance"

Prequel to "So Happy I Could Die." I was originally inspired to write this when a friend of mine, who is of Finnish descent, told me about Finnish rock. Good Lord, I can't picture sweet, little Finland loving that super dark, super heavy metal so much! I really had to stretch my imagination to think of a plot, but once I did, this was a fun track. The thought of Finland dragging Sweden off to one of his concerts, to me, is hilarious. But I think that the blue lightning bolt on Finland's face is funnier. XD

Track 2: (South) Korea performs "LoveGame"

Continues the "Bad Romance" timeline. When I decided that I was going to write out tracks for _The Fame_, I freaked out because I didn't know what to write for this track. What kind of story could I write to go along with this song? It doesn't have much of a story to it at all! Seriously, how much can you get out of "I wanna take a ride on your disco stick?" So, one day, while I was still stumped, I happened upon a Japanese fanart site for Hetalia and saw this awesome picture of South Korea that I absolutely loved. Then I went back to Himaruya's blog, read over a few of the comics containing South Korea, and realized that he grabs breasts. _Ding-dong_, I do believe that is a plot bunny ringing my doorbell.

Track 3: Belarus performs "Paparazzi"

Continues the "Bad Romance" timeline. WOW, I FELT SO ORIGINAL WRITING THIS TRACK. XD Yeah, the performer of this track was rather obvious, no? Still, it IS Belarus's track! It was supposed to be a historical track. I was originally going to write about the current relationship between Belarus and Russia and about Belarus's "last dictatorship," but I scrapped that idea at the last minute. I instead decided to keep going with the Gakuen Hetalia timeline and instead wrote a sequel to "LoveGame." I had fun writing this! I'm not sure why, but I love torturing Russia with threats of Belarus, just because their relationship in the series is so ridiculous. It's fun writing about a crazy/creepy Belarus, too. Yes, she most definitely did drop out at the end of her sophomore year just so she could follow her dear brother. What will become of Russia and his insane little sister? That is to be answered in the next Gakuen Hetalia story, whether it be in _Born This Way_ or another future album.

Track 4: Russia performs "Poker Face"

Side story for "Monster," "Speechless," and "Teeth." Yup, I feel original again. XD But this is another one of those tracks where no other character could embody the theme of the song as well as one specific character could. So it went to Russia. This track was supposed to be a change of pace in the album, because it was the first serious as well as the first historical track for _The Hetalian Fame._

Okay, now for some historical notes. First of all, the USA and the USSR hated each other long before the Cold War even started, but they put their hatred aside to fight for the greater good during World War II. Then, of course, they went right back to fighting and hating each other. Hell, the USA didn't even recognize the USSR as a country until 1933, and the USSR was formed in 1922! Anyway, after WWII, part of the deal that the USA, the UK, and France made with the USSR was that the three Western countries would control West Germany and that the USSR would control East Germany. They also split the capital city of Berlin down the middle and started building the Berlin Wall in 1961. I set it up so that Prussia was confined to the Soviet Union mansion until the Wall was complete. That way, no matter what, Russia had control over him, and Prussia would not have any chances to escape.

The USSR often tried to mess with the West's plans though. The entire city of Berlin was located in East Germany, so the USSR claimed that the West could not provide aid to West Berlin because it was within East Germany borders. This was why the relief of the Marshall Plan did not reach West Berlin on time and why the West resorted to flying over the city and literally dropping the aid down in the streets. The USSR also took advantage of the Chinese Civil War and influenced the Chinese Communist Party during this time. Eventually, the communists defeated the democratic movement and took power in China, mostly thanks to Mao Zedong. The USSR also backed North Korea in its separation from South Korea, because the USSR felt as though it had to back any and all attempts to turn nations to communism. So that's why America was so pissed off when Belarus answered the phone. Luckily, in countries like Italy and Greece, other political parties managed to defeat their communist enemies and rebuild their governments into republics after WWII.

When Stalin died, Khrushchev took power. First of all, he was criticized for cataloguing and denouncing Stalin's crimes. At this point, the USSR and China, which had been allies, started to break away from each other, because Mao had backed Stalin. Mao claimed that Khrushchev was nothing compared to Stalin, and the two started a propaganda war. This was also the time when the Berlin Wall was being constructed, which also gained lots of criticism from all sides. Additionally, the Space Race began, and the USSR managed to launch Sputnik, the first satellite in space. This, obviously, pissed the Americans off, which led them to try to beat the USSR to the moon. By the way, Khrushchev's line about Berlin being the testicles of the West is a real quote. Look it up, I'm not kidding.

Then came Vietnam and Afghanistan. I've already gone over how controversial America's war in Vietnam is in another tracks, so I'm not going to talk about it here. Afghanistan was invaded in 1979, and that war is often called "Russia's Vietnam." In other words, the actions and events that happened during this war were very similar to what happened with America and Vietnam.

In 1980, the American Olympic hockey team shocked the world and united the USA when it defeated the USSR's Olympic hockey team 4 to 3. It was basically a bunch of thrown-together, unorganized college students against the greatest, strongest, most famous hockey team in the world (Sorry, Canada.). This event is called The Miracle on Ice, and it has been declared the most inspirational moment in American sports history. I quoted the announcer word for word during the last eleven seconds of the game and ended the track on a high note. This game pretty much set the stage for the USA to win the Cold War against the USSR. If the Olympic hockey team fell apart, the USSR would fall apart, too. Plus, I just really wanted to write an Olympics scene. This whole track was originally going to be about the men's figure skating event at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics! Yup, I'm looking at you, Lysacek, Plushenko.

Obviously, there are so many other events that came with the Cold War. I seriously wish I could have included every single one of them and explained them with the Hetalia characters, I honestly do. But I think I would still be typing out this track today if I did that. I seriously encourage you all to look up some of the unmentioned events though, events like the Warsaw Pact, the Hungarian Revolution, NATO, the Cuban Missile Crisis, etc. They're all fascinating.

Track 5: Canada performs "Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)"

Prequel to "Alejandro." I know, I know, I gave you no hints that this was the prequel to any track, but this was definitely connected to "Starstruck," in which I did drop hints that it was connected to "Alejandro." Anyway, I've been wanting to write out a story about France and Canada for a long time. The setting of this track was inspired by a lesson I received in my 8th grade history class (which was supposed to be about just American history, but we ended up learning a little bit about Canada, too). Plus, little Canada is too adorable for words.

Now for some more history. After the War of the Austrian Succession, England decided to ally itself with Prussia. England had the most powerful naval armada in the world (after defeating Spain's in 1588, during the Anglo-Spanish War), and Prussia's land-based army was gaining power quickly. Therefore, England convinced Prussia to betray France so the two of them could fight against Austria, Russia, France, and the like. This war was called the Seven Years' War. As a result, Spain and France had to hand all of their colonies over to the British Empire (with a few exceptions).

Track 6: Monaco performs "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich"

Sequel to "Dance in the Dark." I decided to write out three short stories for this one-shot based on the words making up the title of the song. It was easier than writing out one long story. Plus, Monaco is just plain awesome and needs more love. It was fun to do a little research on such a lovely, luxurious place for the rich and famous. Plus, can't you just picture France harassing Monaco about her taxes and all and Monaco saying back, "Daddy, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry, yeah?"

Track 7: Sealand performs "The Fame"

Sequel to "So Happy I Could Die." Nothing but some mindless fluff and a little recognition for Sealand here. XD I wrote this in August and suddenly got into the Christmas spirit. I almost ran to my mom and said, "Let's decorate gingerbread cookies!" XD

Track 8: Switzerland performs "Money Honey"

Continues the "Bad Romance" timeline. I very much enjoyed putting Switzerland into a frilly dress, yes, I did. :) I also very much enjoy making Japan a scheming pervert who wants nothing more than to snap pictures of his beloved friends in suggestive ways. As far as the relationship between Austria and Switzerland goes, I wanted this to be a friendship fic, not a yaoi fic. I actually have it set up that Austria is with Hungary in Gakuen Hetalia, so Switzerland is just a friend. But that doesn't mean I can't put him in a frilly dress. No, it does not. :)

Track 9: England, featuring Spain and France, performs "Starstruck"

Sequel to "Alejandro." This was another one of those tracks where I had absolutely no idea what I was going to write about until the very last minute. I decided to parallel the British Invasion of the 1960s to when the British first arrived in the New World. Adding The Beatles in there was also a bit of a tribute to a great band of the past, one that, very much like GaGa, had a lot of influence on the musical world and the world in general.

During the European Age of Exploration, there was much competition between the European powers to claim as much land as possible as quickly as possible. The Spanish and Portuguese landed early and claimed much of the southern portions of North America and the entirety of South America. Other countries, like England, France, Netherlands, Sweden, and Finland, spent more time in the northern parts of North America and fought for territories there. When England took control and formed the 13 Colonies, France went even more north and claimed the Canadian territory, mostly to piss England off, as usual.

Track 10: Taiwan performs "Boys, Boys, Boys"

Prequel to "Dance in the Dark." Here's yet another track where I had no idea of what to write about until the last minute. I knew I wanted this to be Taiwan's track from the beginning, but I had no clues for a plot until I re-read "Dance in the Dark" one day. Then I decided to divide Taiwan's time up among the male nations of Asia. In my headcanon, Thailand is the only sane one, and Japan is a very sad drunk. XD

Track 11: Italy performs "Paper Gangsta"

Continues the "Bad Romance" timeline. This is my favorite song on _The Fame_. The moment I heard it, I knew it was going to be Italy's track. I just _knew it_. I can't explain the feeling I got when I listened to it. It just screamed "ITALY'S TRACK" to me. (shrugs) It was also a good excuse to write some GerIta, which is my Hetalia OTP. It was also a good excuse to have pervert!Japan make another appearance. XD Admittedly, I kinda wanted to blow your mind, too, and write out the sequence that went on behind closed doors during "Bad Romance (Remix)." Expect more GerIta in the future, both in and out of Gakuen Hetalia!

Track 12: Germania performs "Brown Eyes"

Independent story...sort of. It's my own twist on Episode 32 of Season 2, but it's not connected to any of the other tracks in either _The Hetalian Monster_ or _Tbe Hetalian Fame_. It was a difficult track to write, because this is my favorite episode (so far). So...I sorta ruined it for myself. I got my boxed set for Season 2 from FUNimation in the mail the other day, and when I watched Episode 32, I kept having to say to myself, "Germania isn't there. Germania isn't there!"

Now to blow your mind a bit. This was originally going to be Russia's track. YES, FOR A MOMENT, I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT A TRACK OTHER THAN "POKER FACE" SUITED RUSSIA. XD I originally wanted to write about the Sino-Soviet Split but scrapped that idea once I started planning "Poker Face." Then, I actually _wrote out a list of all the Hetalia nations with brown eyes_. No, I'm not obsessive over my fanfics at all. In the end, I decided to settle on this being Germania's track because the concept of "everything" in the song reminded me a lot of the Roman Empire. If there was ever an empire in history that had everything, it was the Roman one.

The end of the track is a hint at the breaking of the Pact of Steel, which was when Italy transferred to the Allies towards the end of WWII. This was just one event that spelled the end for Nazi Germany, among other things. Don't let anyone tell you that history doesn't repeat itself.

Track 13: Netherlands performs "I Like It Rough"

Independent story. I wanted to write something about the 2010 World Cup so badly! I'm not quite sure of why I chose this track though. (laughs) I think I was watching one of the games while listening to my iPod (Don't ask me how I managed to do that.), and "I Like It Rough" came up on the shuffle. Bingo!

Netherlands was not the guaranteed performer of this track though. I set this and "Starstruck" up so that the loser of the final match would perform "I Like It Rough" while the winner was featured with France for "Starstruck." Remember how Netherlands had an appearance in "Starstruck?" This track was why! If he had won, then he would have been the other supporting role, and Spain would have performed "I Like It Rough." I love it when a plan comes together.

I realize that I made Spain a total dick in this fic though. Sorry. XD I couldn't help adding a few terrible "Twilight" jokes and making Spain all cocky and whatnot. Sorry to Netherlands, too. He just looks way too much like Robert Pattinson. XD _"I'm shiny and I know it~"_ /shot

I also wanted to do a tribute to Shakira, which was why she made an appearance in the story. She's my second-favorite singer ever, right after GaGa, and "Waka Waka" is an AMAZING song. (I command you to listen to her other songs, too! "How Do You Do," "Hips Don't Lie," and "She Wolf" are all awesome!)

Rest in peace, Paul. :(

Track 14: Ukraine performs "Summerboy"

Sequel to "Speechless." Oh man, what can I say about this track? I'm not even so sure of where the story came from. I originally thought about making this a track for Seychelles, but I just sort of got another idea and stuck with it. I like Prussia/Ukraine very much, and I was open to writing something for them, but I had no idea of how far I would take it. My subconscious is an evil little bastard, I tell you. Other than that, I feel like this track was really self-explanatory. The Berlin Wall fell on November 9, 1989, allowing Germans on both sides to cross freely. Then Germany was united on October 3, 1990. Other than that, I'm planning on explaining everything else in future track. Hopefully, something from _Born This Way_ will let me write out another story for Prussia and Ukraine.

Track 15: Rome performs "Disco Heaven."

Continues the "Bad Romance" timeline. You can find most of the outfits described if you Google "Lady GaGa outfits" and check out the image results. Poland (with Prussia, France, and Spain), Romano, Japan, Greece, Finland, Sweden, South Korea, Belarus, Russia, Canada, and Monaco all wore outfits from their respective music videos. Lithuania's outfit was what GaGa wore when she won Best New Artist at the 2009 VMAs. Germany's outfit was what GaGa wore when she met the Queen of England (and the line about the shower curtain was taken straight from "Glee"). Hungary's, Taiwan's, and Ukraine's were from miscellaneous performances. Denmark's was the outfit GaGa wore on the red carpet at the 2010 Grammy Awards. America's meat dress was what GaGa wore when she accepted the award for Video of the Year at the 2010 VMAs. Sealand's outfit was a parody of the Kermit the Frog dress. England's dress was what GaGa wore to the 2009 VMAs. Italy's outfit is what GaGa usually wears when she performs "Paper Gangsta" at her concerts. Netherlands's outfit was what GaGa wore for her performance on "The Today Show" when she had an outdoor concert in NYC over the summer. Rome and Germania were not dressed up, and Switzerland's outfit was the same dress he wore in "Money Honey."

Bonus Track: Video Phone

Sequel to "Telephone." This was just another excuse to write more Visual Kei!Japan. That is all. XD What did Japan and Greece record on Turkey's phone? I'll leave that up to your imaginations until I find a track I can write from Turkey's point of view to complete the trilogy. That's also when I'll talk about all the hidden history in these tracks. :)

Thanks for sticking with me throughout this album, Little Monsters.

(End of separate notes.)

"Gilbert?"

The albino looked up from the CD booklet at his friends. "Huh?"

"We made it back to the hotel, _mon ami_," Francis sighed as he opened the car door. "Let's go and get changed. I need my beauty sleep."

"Ah, okay," Gilbert agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car. He followed his friends towards the entrance of the building, receiving many strange looks from other guests along the way. The trio tried to ignore their whispers of awe and mild disgust.

That was hard once they tried to pass through the lobby. "You guys are freaks," the woman behind the counter said bluntly.

Antonio and Francis ignored her and moved towards the elevator, but Gilbert stopped and stood in front of the desk. "I'm a freak, am I?" he asked. "What if I have pride in being a freak? What if I'm an _awesome_ freak?"

"Impossible," the woman shot back. "There's no such thing. A freak is nothing. You're nothing."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes and glared at the woman. At the elevator, Francis and Antonio waited in silence, not daring to move a muscle. Panicking internally, they tried to keep their calm and think about what they should do if Gilbert blew up.

But they didn't have to worry.

"Listen to me," Gilbert hissed. "I don't care what you say. I don't care what anybody says. I could walk around like this every day, all day if I wanted to. Do you have any idea why?"

"Because-!"

"BECAUSE I'M AN AWESOME SUPERSTAR AND I WAS BORN THAT WAY!"

END

* * *

_"When you make music or write or create, it's really your job to have mind-blowing, irresponsible, condomless sex with whatever idea it is you're writing about at the time." -Lady GaGa_

This is my favorite Lady GaGa quote and one of my favorite quotes of all-time. It's the idea I tried to follow while writing _The Hetalian Monster_ and _The Hetalian Fame_.

Why Lady GaGa though? Why not some other singer/band?

Fox News called GaGa poison for the minds of today's kids. Hetalia has been called a politically incorrect mockery of history. Both have pushed the boundaries of what is accepted, and both have been attacked mercilessly. Both have suffered from threats of silence.

Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather be a poisoned, politically incorrect, free bitch than a silenced, brainwashed slave of society who fades into the background. Writing _The Hetalian Monster_ and _The Hetalian Fame_ has helped me realize this.

So of course it isn't over. Of course I'm going to write out stories for every track of _Born This Way_ as soon as it's released. I'm even going to open the performer possibilities to Hetalia characters other than the nations. So, starting with _Born This Way_, tracks will be open to historical figures who appear in Hetalia (Maria Teresa, Old Fritz, Joan of Arc, Napoleon, Zheng He, etc.), sidekick characters (Gilbird, Tony, Flying Mint Bunny, Puffin, Hanatamago, Pochi-kun, etc.), and aspects of the nations (Osaka, General Winter, etc.). Of course, any nations who have not yet had their own track are up for track assignments on the new album. I'm super excited. (By the way, you may want to keep an eye on this story around the holiday season. I'll have a special treat for you come Christmas time.) :)

And here's a last thank you to all of you, my Little Hetalia Fanfiction Monsters. Thank you so much for sticking with me and making this my most successful fanfic to date. I love and appreciate all of you. I hope that you'll join me for _Born This Hetalian Way_. In the meantime, I wish all of you peace, love, anime, fanfiction, history, and fame.

May Mother Monster watch over you and keep you safe.

~Gothic Dancer


	28. LEAKED: BORN THIS WAY ANNOUNCEMENT

**_To All My Little Hetalian Monsters:_**

_Hello, it's your humble author. I miss writing for you so much._

_I am anxiously waiting for the release of BORN THIS WAY, as I'm sure all of you are. This is why I was so excited when I found out that the single "Born This Way" is going to be released on February 13, 2011. Not much longer._

_Mother Monster made her announcement, so I have one, too._

_When "Born This Way" is released, I will write out the track for it as soon as I possibly can and post it. Then, when the entire album is released, I'll continue._

_But that's not all._

_In case you hadn't heard, the lyrics for "Born This Way" were released on Mother Monster's Twitter account._

_She leaked them._

_Now, I will leak something, too._

_THE SONG: BORN THIS WAY._

_THE RELEASE DATE: 2. 13. 2011._

_THE PERFORMER: JOAN OF ARC_

_In the meantime, remember that you're a superstar._

_AND THAT YOU WERE BORN THAT WAY._

**_Love,_**

**_Writing Monster_**

**_(AKA Gothic Dancer)_**


	29. LEAKED: JUDAS ANNOUNCEMENT

**_To All My Little Hetalian Monsters:_**

_By now, I'm sure you've all heard the news about Mother Monster's latest single._

_"Judas."_

_The song will be released on April 19th._

_However._

_I will not be releasing the track until the music video is released. I want to see what all this controversy is about and write the story from there._

_People can critique Mother Monster all they want. They can critique us all they want. But the bottom line is that we all have the right to say what we want, to express ourselves how we want, and to critique anything we want, no matter how controversial._

_Nothing was ever improved or changed without someone speaking up._

_This is how progress is made._

_Free speech is the only thing that can truly save us all._

_Remember: "It doesn't matter if you love him...or capital H-I-M."_

_SO BELIEVE IN WHAT YOU WANT. SAY WHAT YOU WANT. DEMAND YOUR RIGHTS._

_That's what Mother Monster is trying to teach us._

_And now, for an announcement:_

_THE SONG: JUDAS_

_THE RELEASE DATE: APRIL 19TH (Track pending music video release.)_

_THE PERFORMER: CHIBITALIA_

_In the meantime, always be proud of who you are and what you believe._

_Mother Monster and I love you._

**_Love,_**

**_Writing Monster_**

**_(AKA Gothic Dancer)_**


End file.
